


Burn the Witch

by Argonaught



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Agnes and Agatha are the same character, Alternate Universe - Historical, Author Is Not Religious, Author is not a historian, BAMF Wanda Maximoff, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fuck Tyler Hayward, Misogyny, Religious Persecution, Salem witch trials but with the avengers and the cast of WandaVision, slow burn kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:29:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 49,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29401281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argonaught/pseuds/Argonaught
Summary: Vision is a devout Puritan and soldier sworn to protect his town of Salem, Massachusetts. He and his fellow watchmen keep order within his village and without, carrying out God’s word under the guidance of Minister Tyler Hayward.However, Vision's faith shall be tested when he becomes acquainted with a young woman who is not what she seems, and threatens to burn his whole world to ashes.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff & Vision, Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Comments: 130
Kudos: 200





	1. Watchmen

Staring off into the forest, Vision could have sworn he was looking into the abyss. It was endless, fathomless darkness in front of him. He could not see 15 yards past the city gate, even with his sharp eyes.

  
Had he ever seen such vast emptiness? Vision stared and stared, and the abyss smiled back, taunting.

  
“They’ve been gone too long.” Vision murmured, half to himself.

  
Sam Wilson, his fellow watchmen and friend looked up from cleaning his musket, “It’s a freezing night out here, Vision. They could have set up camp for the night, started a fire to keep warm.”

  
Vision continued to stare into the dark, unconvinced. A group of eight men had set out into the uncharted forest precisely two weeks ago; the Minister had commanded the party to return tonight if their hunt was unsuccessful. According to the town’s clock, it was approximately forty-three minutes after midnight, and every minute that passed only served to increase Vision’s anxiety.

  
Sam did have a point, however. It was the coldest November night Vision could remember in his twenty-six years. It was just their luck for them to have been placed on guard duty this evening. Sam consistently huddled near the torches to keep his hands warm, shivering even in his thickest wool clothes, muttering sinful obscenities. Vision would be doing the same were it not for the yellow pendant hanging around his neck, which glowed softly in the dark, keeping him warm.

  
“Captian Rogers would not disobey the Minister’s orders…” Vision replied after a minute.

  
Sam scoffed, “Steve does what’s best for his men, and if they are freezing to death, then he will prioritize their lives over Hayward’s commands.”

  
Vision turned his stern, blue gaze to Sam, who sat lounging against the parapet’s walls, “Captian Rogers understands that disobeying the Minister’s command is a sin. The party shall return, or the Captian knows that the Minister could punish them for insubordination.”

  
An awkward silence ensued as Vision continued to stare down his fellow soldier. Sam slowly stood up straight and looked back at Vision, though he couldn’t quite meet his eyes, “yes, of course. You are right. They will probably return within the hour.” Sam returned to his post a few yards adjacent to Vision, side-eying his fellow watchmen uneasily.

  
Vision hated to make things awkward between him and Sam, but he had only spoken the truth. Minister Hayward was a strict, pious man who demanded absolute loyalty from everyone within Salem. His devotion to leading the village towards righteousness was inspiring. The Minister’s sermons were always passionate and uplifting; he promised every man, woman, and child paradise if only they obeyed God’s word.

Vision was loyal. He loved his town and its people and would do anything to protect them from whatever lay beyond the town walls, which is why he sincerely wished Captian Rogers to return this night. The last thing Vision wanted to see was a good man like Steven Rogers to be put in the stocks, or worse.

  
_“Patience.”_

  
Vision opened his eyes. He hadn’t realized he closed them. Vision grasped the pendant around his neck and stared down at its faint yellow glow. Vision inhaled the brutally frigid air and exhaled deeply. Yes. He would be patient. He could not let his fears get the best of him.

  
Ten minutes later, the abyss stirred.

  
Vision tensed, now alert, and readied his pistol. The faintest of glows could be seen in the darkness, emerging slowly but surely from the black. The glow separated, and the individual lights of torches became brighter. Vision breathed a sigh of deep relief.

  
Vision turned to Sam, who smiled at his partner ecstatically, “Sound the bell, Sam, our Captain has returned to us.”

\-----

By the time Vision had commanded the town gates open and walked out onto the dirt road to welcome his fellow men back into town, half of the village was awake and cheering. The uproar was the intended effect of the bell ringing, of course; these men had been gone for weeks, leaving wives and children to fear for their safety.

  
And return they did. All eight of the hunting party were still alive! Vision raised his hand in greeting, about to shout and... Vision stopped dead in his tracks outside of the gate, his smile vanishing.

  
Captain Rogers led the party on his white mare, no joy gracing his handsome features. Beside him rode his lieutenant, Anthony “Tony” Stark, and James “Rhodey” Rhodes, holding torches. The rest of the men followed behind the Captain, as did the spoils of their hunt.

  
Vision grimly looked up at Steve, “You found her.”

  
Tony scoffed in disgust, gesturing with his torch, “wouldn’t call it a _her_.”

  
“Silence, Stark.” Steve cut in, having no patience for his jokes. Steve jerked his left hand, in which he held a long rope. Staggering forward came a middle-aged woman with matted raven hair, the noose tied around her neck. Her dress was torn and muddy, her face bruised and red from obvious blows. She was barefoot.

  
Once she stood a mere five feet from Vision, she shuddered and fell to her knees, rasping.

  
Behind the group of men stood the townspeople, muttering in questioning tones, trying to see if they could run to their loved ones or not, and attempting to get a better look at what the men had brought back with them. Sam and another watchman held the townspeople back, for now, understanding who the ragged woman truly was.

  
Vision looked down at her in disgust for a moment before swallowing, “what will you do with her?” Vision knew it was a stupid question, but he morbidly wished to know before everyone else.

  
Captain Rogers looked down at the woman in question, “I will take her before the church so that the Minister may see her, then it will be his judgment that decides her fate.”

  
Steve forced the battered woman to her feet with a pull of the rope, gasping for breath. The Captain trotted forward, his party in toe, and Vision stepped aside to let them pass. The woman stared at Vision as she was pulled forward, her eyes lingering on him until she was forced through the town gate and could no longer see him.

  
Vision shivered. Her gaze was cold yet… curious? The woman looked as if she knew something about him, yet Vision had never seen her in his life. Vision shook his head and followed the hunting party inside, signaling to Sam to close the gates for the night.

  
The town was in an uproar. Against all odds, the party had returned successfully. No one had genuinely believed that they would find her after years of unsuccessful hunting, yet here she stood, barefoot and powerless before the wrath of three hundred citizens and God himself.

  
“WITCH!” the people spat at her face.

  
“Damned Murderer!”

  
“Satan worshiper!”

  
“KILL THE WITCH!”

  
As Steve marched the broken woman forward, she stumbled through the growing crowd of angry people, who spit in her face, stomped on her feet, and threw rocks at her head. Vision looked on in worry. _This is getting out of hand_ , he thought to himself. Yes, the once eager and happy citizens of Salem were now turning into a raving frenzy, calling for this woman’s blood.

  
Vision winced as a rock collided with the woman’s temple, sending her crashing into the mud with a cry. The mob descended upon her, kicking her sides, her face, only stopping once Captain Rogers ordered the brutality to cease.

  
The accused lay still on the ground, curled into a ball. Vision wondered briefly if the people had truly beaten her to death. The captain started pulling her forward, and the woman began choking, gagging as the noose tightened around her throat. To Vision’s amazement, the woman stood once more, albeit coughing up blood and spit, breathing raggedly; yet he found himself begrudgingly impressed by her strength.

  
The woman’s walk of shame ended once the party arrived at the town church. The mob of citizens were howling bloody murder, demanding torture, justice, revenge, and most of all, the witch’s death. Captain Rogers’ men kept the mob at bay. Otherwise, they surely would have torn the accused to pieces.

  
This kind of behavior truly frightened Vision, though he understood his people’s rage. Yet, he cooled his own urge to join the frenzy. Wrath was a sin, and he would not let his anger consume him. _Justice will be dealt_ , Vision thought coldly. He had no mercy in his heart for Satan worshipers.

  
Vision’s thoughts were disrupted by the arrival of Minister Hayward, who exited the church. The mob quieted down as he stood upon the steps of the chapel, looking down upon the soldiers, the citizens, and the accused witch beneath him.

  
Hayward smiled broadly, “we welcome home our brave soldiers, lead by Captain Steven Rogers, for returning to us with a wicked sinner in their hold.” Hayward addressed his people, hands outstretched, and was returned with a deafening roar of approval from the townsfolk, cheering Captain Rogers’ name.

  
Minister Hayward stepped down from his church onto the ground, peering closely at the broken woman kneeling before him. Vision could see Hayward’s eyes glimmer in delight before he leaned down, speaking to the woman directly, “welcome home, lady Harkness.”

  
Agatha Harkness looked up at Hayward through her matted bangs, and Vision could see the most deranged smile split her face. “Hello, Minister Hayward…” the woman cooed, before spitting blood directly into his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome everyone! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, feedback is much appreciated and I would love to hear your thoughts! I will try to update as soon as possible. 
> 
> -Argo


	2. The Minister's Command

The slap is delivered hard and fast to Agatha’s face, giving her no time to react. The loud crack of Hayward’s hand echoes across the otherwise silent courtyard, making Vision flinch slightly. 

Agatha Harkness falls to the ground once more, covering her swollen face and groaning in pain. Minister Hayward straightens, fishing a handkerchief from his robe pocket, and wipes the gore from his face with a sigh. 

“You are no longer a beast living in the woods, Lady Harkness.” Hayward tsks, looking down at Agatha and tilting his head, “you must behave according to our Lord’s laws once more.”

Agatha coughs haggardly, bile and blood drooling from her split lips, “my dear Minister, I thought you would have learned by now, but I guess you always were a little slow.” Agatha pushed herself to her knees once more, peering up at Hayward. One of her eyes were swollen shut, yet Agatha still somehow managed to laugh, “I don’t follow your false God, and if you think I am no longer a beast simply because you have caged me....” Agatha’s smile turned into a sneer, “then you are very much mistaken.” 

The crowd of townspeople watching the exchange collectively gasped in horror. A woman to the left of Vision started reciting a prayer. Several people stepped back and gripped the wooden crosses hanging from their necks, muttering in bewilderment. Captain Rogers inhaled sharply and tugged the noose, causing Agatha to gag. The Minister simply looked at Agatha with what appeared to be pity. 

Steve looked to the Minister, “Shall I put her in the jail, sir?” 

Minister Hayward outstretched his hands once more, addressing the crowd, “please, everyone, calm yourselves. We have nothing to fear from this wicked woman; she cannot harm us. Remember, the Lord protects us and shall deliver us from evil!” 

The townspeople nodded and looked to one another in agreement, though they were still shaken. 

The Minister continued, “There shall be a trial for Agatha Harkness in a fortnight! She shall be charged, tried, and convicted according to fair due process. We are a just society that obeys the word of God, and we must treat _all_ of his people equally. Even the most egregious of sinners.” Hayward paused for effect, looking down once more at Agatha. “Captain, please escort Lady Harkness to the town jail, where she will await trial on charges of witchcraft, Satanism, and murder.” 

The Captain nodded, and the townspeople cried with joy once more as Agatha Harkness was led away from the church, barely managing to walk. The captain left, while the remainder of the hunting party dismounted from their horses and embraced their waiting wives and children with glee. Tony Stark embraced his pregnant wife, Pepper, with all of the affection of a starved man looking upon a feast. Clint Barton kissed his wife, Laura, with so much passion that onlookers looked away shameful of such a lustful display. 

Vision could only look on with joy, feeling his heart swell with pride. This was his home, his friends, and his family. They had just captured a wicked sinner, a _witch,_ for god’s sake! All had returned home safe and happy, to a joyous reception. _God truly is with us_ , Vision thought contentedly. His town of Salem was doing the Lord’s work, and if he ever doubted that they had His favor, he put all of those notions to rest. 

A slap to Visions back shook him from his thoughts as he came crashing back down into reality. Sam laughed deeply and wrapped his arm around Vision’s neck, “a job well done, wouldn’t you say, soldier?” 

Vision rolled his eyes and chuckled, “please, we had the easy part. Those men risked their lives to track down Agatha; all we had to do was open the gates for them!” 

Sam threw back his head, “eeeexactly! It was a team effort! Now come on, we should be celebrating with the other men!” Sam released Vision from his stronghold and started walking towards Tony, calling back over his shoulder, “And here you were thinking we would be standing on that bloody wall all night long!” 

Vision had to smile at that. Yes, it was true. All had worked out very well indeed. Just as Vision began walking forward to join up with Sam and the other watchmen, and hand clasped itself onto his shoulder. “Not so fast there, Victor.”

Vision straightened his back and turned around immediately to address Minister Hayward, who now stood before him with a smile. “Minister Hayward, how may I be of service?”

Hayward’s smile brightened and gestured towards the church, “I hate to keep you from conversing with the other watchmen, I know that you must be eager to learn of their adventures, but I wondered if you could spare a moment to speak alone.” 

Vision nodded, “of course, sir, it would be my pleasure.” 

The two men walked forward towards the chapel together, climbing the steps and into the building before Hayward shut the double doors behind them. Vision looked up and around the familiar structure, this sacred place that housed him every Sunday since he was born. Utterly relaxed, Vision breathed in the familiar scent of old oak and candles; he was baptized in this church. It was like a second home to him. 

The Minister walked past Vision, his rugged boots echoing his footsteps as he walked up the aisle towards his alter. Vision followed with haste, eager to know what the Minister wished to speak with him about. 

Once the Minister reached his alter, he gestured towards the first aisle, “sit, please, Victor.” 

Vision did so without question, as he now sat bellow the Minister who now stood above him— looking down on Vision.

Vision’s mind briefly wondered if this was intentional on Hayward’s part. This subtle display of power by having Vision sit while he remained standing was unnecessary, yet Hayward chose to do it anyway. 

“Victor, I’ve asked to speak with you privately on a matter of great importance.” Minister Hayward leaned forward on his alter, looking directly into Vision’s eyes. “Do I have your word that you will remain silent to everyone else on what I am about to ask you?”

Vision straightened his back, “of course, sir. You can trust my absolute loyalty.” 

Hayward nodded his approval, “for which I am eternally grateful, Victor. Now, the issue of Lady Agatha Harkness is upon us, and I require your help.” 

Vision tensed. “How may I be of service, sir?”

Hayward smiled, “now that we have captured the witch of the woods, we must pull forth from her a confession.” 

“A confession, sir?” Vision paused, “but she all but confessed in front of the entire town just minutes ago, she professed her heresy right before the church!” 

Hayward hummed in agreement, “while she denied our Lord in full view, she did not confess her practice of Satanism. Nor did she confess her practice of witchcraft or the suspected murders. Although we have evidence of her sacrilege, which will, of course, be used against her in the upcoming trial, having her plead guilty is _always_ preferable.” Hayward looked away from Vision and down at his bible, placing his hand gently on the sacred text, “should she confess her sins before the Lord, her soul may yet be saved.” 

Vision nodded his understanding. The witch might receive the Lord’s mercy if only she confessed. Minister Hayward only wished for her to repent her sins and return to the Lord’s grace. “Of course, Minister. So what do you require of me?”

Hayward looked up from his bible to Vision once more, “do you know why I have never let you leave the town walls, Vision?” 

Vision’s breath caught in his throat. “N-no, sir.” That was a lie, yet it slipped unbidden from his tongue. Of course he knew why. 

Hayward scoffed and pointed at Vision’s chest, “Don’t lie to me, boy. I have kept you here because of that pendent that casts its glow upon you. I was never sure. I had to keep an eye on you, but you already know this. You are undoubtedly the most intelligent man in Salem, and, to my delight, one of my most devout parishioners.” Hayward stepped down from his alter and now stood a foot from Vision, “your father Ultron saved you from the gallows the day that pendent latched itself on you.” 

Vision swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. Yes, Hayward was correct. Vision likely would have died that day had his father not been Minister. five years later, when Vision was seventeen, his father died, and Hayward ascended Ultron’s place as Minister.

“I thought love had blinded your father, I had insisted upon him that we force the unholy thing from your body, or even perform an exorcism, yet he would have none of it.” Hayward paused, looking down at the yellow pendant, which continued to glow softly in the dark, “you have proven yourself to be a devout follower of our Lord, Victor. I do not punish men for their devotion.” 

Victor slowly let out the breath he was holding. His youth has been a harrowing experience, indeed, which was why Vision was so utterly devoted to his faith. Even as the Minister’s son, Vision had to claw his way up the social standing, proving himself to be pious, the most well-read, the most hard-working of all his fellow students. He needed to prove that he was a servant of God and not a slave to the devil whispering from the pendent. He consistently held meetings with his father and Hayward, who questioned him for hours on what the pendant said to him. Vision always answered truthfully. 

_“I’m not the devil.”_

_Shut up, I know._ Vision internally whispered back. 

“That being said…” Minister Hayward continued, “the pendent may finally be of use to conduct the Lord’s work. You have earned my trust, Victor, and as such, I am charging you with carrying out Agatha Harkness’s interrogation.” 

Vision gaped, “sir- while I am honored with your trust, I… I may be a soldier, but I have no experience with interrogation or…” Vision hesitated, “or with torture.” 

Hayward raised an eyebrow, “I know that pendent tells you things you shouldn’t know, Vision. It tells you secrets, not necessarily lies. You will utilize its power to interrogate the truth from Lady Harkness.” Minister Hayward smiled, “and should that be unsuccessful, we always have our traditional methods for making a witch talk.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the plot thickens! Vision has a new assignment though he doesn't seem particularly happy about it, as we all know, Vision is a soft boy. Anyways, thank you for reading! Until next time!
> 
> -Argo


	3. A Quiet Voice

By the time Vision was dismissed by Minister Hayward and returned home to his cabin, he was utterly exhausted. Vision had expected to return to the parapets to finish his guard shift, but to his relief, the Minister relieved him of duty for the night. 

Vision knew without a doubt that Sam and the other watchmen would be off celebrating until dawn, but Vision’s head had started to ache, and all he wanted was to lay down and sleep for a week. 

Vision sat down on his bed and removed his boots, then undressed out of his uniform and into his sleep clothes, a simple tunic, and light trousers. The yellow pendant glowed softly against his chest, keeping him warm amidst the otherwise frigid home. Vision was lucky; he rarely needed to light his fireplace during the winters, for his body always remained at a comfortable temperature. 

Vision had often wondered about the nature of the pendent; it would not, _could_ not leave his body no matter how hard he tried. In the early days, his father had gone so far as to try to break the chain with an ax head, to no avail.

The chain, and the stone itself, were indestructible, and the necklace was too tight to slip over his head, so there it sat on Visions chest; a permanent resident on his body. 

His father had once compared the pendent to a parasite, “like a tick,” Ultron had said, “leeching blood from the skin of a dog.” 

_“I’m not a parasite.”_

Vision sighed and stood from his bed, walking to the corner of his one-room home where he kept his water basin and splashed the cold water onto his face, cleaning himself of any mud or grime— wiping down his face with a towel. Vision returned to his bed, kneeling onto the hard floor and resting his elbows on the sheets, clasping his hands together in prayer. 

“O, Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, I pray to you on this night asking for your guidance on what I must do tomorrow in your name.” Vision whispered. 

_“If you want guidance, He will not give you any.”_

Vision opened his eyes and scowled. Typically, Vision did his best to ignore the silent voice in his head, as Minister Hayward had commanded him to in the past. Yet, tomorrow he had been ordered to _use_ the pendant to conduct an interrogation!

The hypocrisy was not lost on Vision. If the pendant was indeed an unholy artifact, then to use it for any service, even in God’s name, was heresy! Yet the Minister entrusted Vision with this task anyways. It was clear that Vision now had Hayward’s confidence as a devout Puritan, that the pendent did not possess his soul or control him. Perhaps the Lord had enlightened Hayward on the stone’s true nature and now wished for Vision to use this gift. 

Vision straightened his back and closed his eyes once more, _Will you help me then?_ He asked into the darkness, finally addressing the pendent. 

_“Have I not been helping you your entire life, Vision?”_

Vision paused in surprise. He had only ever a few times in his life tried to have a conversation with the voice, which was typically met with silence. The pendant usually spoke _at_ Vision, telling him secrets: things about the people in his village, the forest, the ocean, the universe, the nature of life and death, answering questions half-formed in his head. 

A week after the pendent had latched onto him when he was a boy, Vision had asked the critical question.

“Are you the Devil?”

_“No.”_

“The Devil lies.” 

_“I would never lie to you, Victor. I am a part of you now. I have nothing to gain from lying to you.”_

“What about my soul?”

_“I am within your soul.”_

Vision had paused after a long moment.

“Are you God?” 

_“No.”_

“Are you an Angel?” 

_“No.”_

“Then what are you?”

The voice did not answer that last question those fourteen years ago, so Vision, encouraged by his new freedom, asked again now. 

“What are you?” Vision spoke allowed.

A pause. 

_“I am your friend.”_

Vision groaned into his hands. He was _so_ tired. 

_“You should go to sleep.”_

“You didn’t answer my question. Will you help me with the interrogation?” 

Another pause. 

_“Yes. I will.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pendent and Vision have now had a little heart to heart and are ready to work together! Hopefully this partnership works out like its supposed to ;)
> 
> As always thank you for reading, and until next time!
> 
> -Argo


	4. Interrogation

The scream of a woman in agony filled Vision’s ears. It was penetrative, an intrusion. He could feel her pain like it was his own. The crowd surrounding him was in a frenzy, raising their fists in the air and chanting, cheering, demanding death. Vision could do nothing but stare, helpless, as a woman struggled in vain against a wooden stake as an inferno rose around her. Smoke filled the air, rising in dark plumes into the night sky, choking Vision, suffocating him. 

“BURN THE WITCH! BURN THE WITCH! BURN THE WITCH!” The townspeople chanted. 

Yes, this woman was being executed, so why was Vision running towards her? Vision desperately shoved men and women aside, pulling through the crowd towards the pyre, which increased in size by the second. The screams grew louder as the pain became nigh unbearable. Vision’s skin was melting from his bones. 

Vision looked up, and all he saw were the red eyes of a woman possessed. The devil cackled as the flames consumed Vision’s body, and his tortured scream melded with the witches. 

\---

Vision woke with a shout. Sweat poured down from his head, and his breathing was frantic. Vision raised his hand; he was shaking like a leaf. Vision sat up in bed and took several deep breaths to calm himself, hiding his head in his hands. The image of the burning pyre was still seared into his mind. 

It was not the first time Vision had dreamed of witches burning. His memories haunted him in this sleep, the screams of burning men and women occasionally terrorizing him at night. But this time was different. In his other dreams, Vision couldn’t remember being so active. This time, he had run _towards_ the fire and felt his skin burning; it had felt real, and Vision knew what that meant. 

Vision groaned in frustration. He had barely gotten four hours of sleep, and his head was _throbbing_.

Glancing out of the window beside his bed, Vision could see the sky was turning into a soft pink, and the first rays of the sun were peaking through the town walls. Vision saw the east part of Salem slowly but surely rise as well, with candles lit in windows and doors opening to air out stuffy cottages. 

Vision stood from his bed and stretched, then walked to the water basin and filled his tea kettle with the frigid water. Next, he walked over to his fireplace with his flint and steel and struck them together until a small flame burst forth onto the waiting branches. 

Vision flinched, suddenly reminded of his dream, but then shook his head, embarrassed at himself. 

He carefully coaxed the fire until he could add logs, and soon the fireplace was up and roaring. Grabbing his tea kettle, Vision placed it over the fire, setting it to boil. 

Vision returned to his bed and began undressing from his sleep clothes, then stopped. What did one wear during an interrogation? Minister Hayward had instructed Vision to arrive at the jail at seven a.m. sharp to commence with the meeting, yet Hayward had not specified how formal or informal he was to dress. Vision had never done anything like this before. He was a Watchman and thus kept peace within the town, but he had never questioned prisoners before. That job was typically left to the Captain himself, who sorted out disagreements between citizens to determine wrongful doing. 

Shrugging, Vision decided his Watchmen’s uniform was probably the best way to go; an interrogation was still work, after all. 

Once Vision was fully dressed, the kettle started to whistle, and thus he took the boiling water from the fire and poured himself a cup of tea. Vision drank his tea and ate a small breakfast of porridge and bread before throwing on his cloak and setting out for the day. 

Salem’s daily bustle was in full swing as Vision left his cottage; he passed by his neighbors and tipped his hat in greeting, offering ‘good mornings’ and ‘hellos’ to everyone he saw. It was a short walk to the town jailhouse, which was placed at the Southern end of Salem and stood alone and imposing compared to the surrounding homely cottages.

Just staring at the jailhouse gave Vision the creeps. He rarely, if ever, visited this place. The Watchmen had their own large cottage in which they assembled and held meetings, and typically his job was patrolling the town or the city walls. 

_“Terrible things have happened here…”_ The pendant whispered.

Vision shivered and looked to the far right of the jailhouse, where the gallows stood. The pendant was right; this was a place of horror, but also one of spectacle. How many years had it been since Vision witnessed a public execution? _Three years at most,_ Vision thought. 

Yes, that seemed about right. A man was put to death for killing his wife and trying to blame it on his five-year-old son.

_“His name was William Jenkins.”_

Vision scowled, _did I ask?!_

_“You watched him die.”_

Yes, Vision had watched as Jenkins’ neck snapped when the gallows floor dropped from beneath him. Vision had watched as the man gagged and sputtered, swinging from side to side, trying to end his suffocation. The awful sounds that man had made in his death throes were imprinted into Vision’s brain forever. 

That was not the first public execution Vision had witnessed. 

_“Do not forget, Vision. I will not let you forget.”_

Vision opened his eyes once more and walked forward and through the jailhouse doors. 

\---

The jail’s warden, Bruce Banner, was undoubtedly one of the most interesting men Vision had ever met. At one moment, Bruce could be having a pleasant chat with you about the weather, and then the next, become someone else entirely. Bruce’s other side, to put it frankly, was terrifying. It was no wonder why Hayward had charged him as the warden, for Bruce was compassionate enough to empathize and treat the prisoners with some dignity, yet also bring down the wrath of God upon whatever poor prisoner acted out of line. Bruce held respect only for those who respected him. 

Vision respected Bruce a great deal. 

“So, Vision, Minister Hayward put you in charge of interrogating Lady Harkness, hm?”

Vision walked alongside Bruce as he led the Watchman to Agatha’s cell, which was at the end of the jailhouse. This particular cell was reserved for suspected witches. 

“That’s right, sir. I am honored that the Minister trusts me enough to do this instead of the Captain.” 

Bruce side-eyed him, “yes, some great honor indeed; getting the chance to brutalize a poor woman.”

Vision winced, “I sincerely hope it does not come to that. I wish to convince her to confess simply by speaking with her.” he paused. “But she is not some innocent lady. She’s a witch, a devil worshiper, sir.” 

Bruce nodded, “you must understand Vision... I have been in this line of work since before you were born. I have seen men, women, and children beaten, whipped, flayed, burned. Some of those horrid deeds I have done with my own hands.” Bruce stopped walking.

The warden looked Vision in the eyes, “the thing you must understand Vision is that I have never taken pleasure in my work. Yet what I do, what we do, is _necessary_. I do not enjoy cruelty, and I am pleased to see that neither do you. Which makes you the right person for this job.” Bruce started walking again, leaving Vision to catch up. “What we do, we do in the name of our Lord.” 

The pair of men stopped before a large wooden door with a little window barred by steel rods. Vision took a deep breath. _This is it._

Bruce unlatched the keys from his belt and inserted one into the lock, twisting the knob and opening the door, gesturing for Vision to walk inside. 

The cell was pitch black besides the light that now filtered in from the exposed hallway; no windows be seen. The air was damp, and Vision could hear water dripping from somewhere within the room. 

Bruce came in from behind Vision with a torch and began lighting the torches hanging from the walls, now casting the room in a warm glow. The room was not warm, however. The cell was made entirely of hard, cold stone. There was no bed to be seen, not even a chair. There was nothing inside the room except Agatha Harkness and her chains; and a bucket that sat in the corner, presumably for excrement. 

Once Bruce had finished lighting the torches, he brought in a chair from the hallway, sitting it down in front of Agatha. Bruce turned to Vision, “I shall leave you two to get acquainted. I will be right outside the door should you need anything.” 

Bruce almost stepped out of the door before turning and smacking his forehead, “oh! I almost forgot!” Bruce reached inside his coat pocket and dug out what appeared to be a canvas roll enclosing something. Bruce handed the bundle to Vision before nodding once and closing the door behind him. 

Vision stared at the canvas bundle and unwrapped it slowly, his stomach churning at what he was about to find. 

_“You will not require those.”_ The pendant whispered. 

Vision gulped, staring down at the assortment of knives, hammers, and screws that made up Bruce’s torture instruments. 

“Let’s hope not…” Vision responded. 

“I’m sorry, what’s that?” 

Vision nearly jumped out of his skin, turning abruptly to look down at Agatha Harkness, who now sat cross-legged before him, eyes wide and alert. Her smile was wide. “Did you just talk to yourself? Perhaps I’m not the only crazy one here.” 

Vision had been so consumed with his thoughts (and the voices) that he had nearly forgotten about Agatha, who now tilted her head and leaned forward, trying to get a better look at him from her vantage point. “I was under the impression Captian Rogers was going to be interrogating me this fine morning.” 

Vision took a deep breath, steeling his nerves, walked forward, and sat down in the chair provided to him by Bruce. Vision now sat above her while she looked up at him from the ground, eyes wide in curiosity. 

“I’m afraid I will be the one questioning you today, Lady Harkness.” Vision responded, leaning forward and resting his arms on his thighs. “My name is Vision Abernathy. I am a Watchman of this town.” 

Agatha raised an eyebrow, “Vision? That’s quite the unique name you have.” 

“It’s a nickname, my real name is Victor, but everyone calls me Vision. You might as well too.”

Agatha leaned back against the stone wall of the cell, “mind telling me how you received such a nickname?”

Vision smiled, “I’m supposed to be the one asking questions.” 

Agatha let out a bark of laughter, “I suppose you’re right, mister Watchmen. I guess you must be extraordinary at your job, you know, ‘watching from the walls’ if your name is Vision. Good eyesight and all that.” 

Vision leaned back into his chair, “you would be right, Lady Harkness. I do have good eyesight. But that’s not the reason.” Vision lifted the pendant from his chest, “I saw you watching me last night, but I could tell you weren’t looking at _me_. You were looking at this.” 

The pendant’s yellow glow shined its light on both Vision and Agatha, who now sat stone-faced, yet her eyes studied the pendant.

“So let’s start with this: where have you seen this stone before?” 

Agatha tensed ever so slightly, “I haven’t” 

“You’re lying.”

The witch smirked, “is it so hard to believe that I was intrigued by the man with the glowing necklace? It is truly something to behold, something positively…” Agatha leaned forward, “supernatural.” 

Vision’s grip tightened on the arm of his chair in frustration, though he tried not to show it in his face. “I suppose you of all people would recognize an unholy artifact when you saw one.” 

_“I’m not an unholy artifact.”_

_I am baiting her. Now be quiet._

Agatha huffed, “you give me too much credit, I’m afraid. The truth is I know nothing about that pendent.” 

_“She’s lying.”_ the pendent spoke again.

Vision paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. 

“You do know something, Lady Harkness. And do you know how I know?” Vision stood from his chair and kneeled directly in front of Agatha, now at eye level with her. Her eyes were wide, and she inched back ever so slightly. Vision breathed, “it _tells_ me your lying.”

Agatha’s mouth opened slightly, “I…” 

Vision leaned closer, “and you know what else I know?” He whispered harshly, “I know how you die, Agatha Harkness. I _saw_ you burn alive at the stake. People don’t call me Vision for my fucking eyesight. I see the future in my dreams, and guess what I dreamt last night?” Vision laughed without mirth, “I can still smell your flesh roasting.” 

Deafening silence filled the cell as Agatha barely dared to breathe. Vision stared her down until she looked away, adequately frightened. 

Vision stood from the ground and sat back in his chair, “I am cursed with knowledge, Lady Harkness. This pendant speaks to me. It is _alive_ . And the visions of the future I see _always_ come true.” 

The premonitions that came to Vision in his sleep were quite rare, yet they always held significance. When Vision was thirteen, he dreamt of a great blizzard that lasted a week. The dream reoccurred for over a month, and his father did not believe him until the first week of February that year when the blizzard came to pass. Two years later, Vision had dreamt that the town bell tower collapsed, killing five people inside. After a week of begging Ultron to check to the building, Vision learned that the Tower’s foundation was unstable and that if a few more bricks cracked away, the tower could have fallen. 

Ultron ordered the tower’s foundation’s immediate fixing, and Vision never dreamt of the building falling again. Not long after that, the nickname “Vision” was placed upon him. His father and Hayward begrudgingly listened to his premonitions, still believing them to be the devil’s words, yet they could not ignore the practical use of a human fortune teller, especially if his visions saved lives.

So, Vision spoke a half-truth to Agatha. His dreams of the future did indeed always come true, yet the future could change if he acted upon it. 

“I cannot promise to save your life, Lady Harkness, but if you speak truth to me, your soul may yet be saved.” Vision implored. 

Agatha scoffed, “my soul. What do you know of my soul? If you think I worship Satan, is my soul not already damned?” 

“Our Lord is merciful. Confess your sins and repent. I will know if you lie.” 

“And if I refuse to talk?”

Vision hesitated. “I would say that your refusal to speak only damns you further. I do not want to torture you.” 

“Well, I don’t want to be in this cell, yet here we are blabbing away.” Agatha’s eyes turned hard, “I will not tell you anything willingly, so you had better cut to the chase and get on with it.” 

Vision swallowed and asked inward, _What can you tell me?_

_“Her mind lingers upon me, though I cannot tell why… ah, she is protecting someone.”_

Vision straightened, speaking allowed, “you’re protecting someone?”

Agatha’s face paled. “Fine. I confess. I confess my false idolatry of Satan, and I confess my practice of witchcraft. I repent my sins and beg the Lord’s mercy.”

Vision blanched. “That… why…” He was at a loss for words

 _“She’s lying. She does not worship Satan. She is indeed a witch, however.”_ The pendent intoned, making Vision’s head spin. 

Vision stood from his chair and rubbed his temples. “I thought I told you not to lie, Lady Harkness. My friend tells me that you are not, in fact, a devil worshiper.” 

Agatha laughed, “maybe not your idea of the devil, perhaps.”

Vision stared at her, bewildered, “that doesn’t make any sense.” 

Agatha shrugged, “take it or leave it, pretty boy. You have your confession, now leave me in peace.” 

“What about the person you are protecting?” Vision inquired softly. 

Agatha did not answer. 

“If you don’t answer me, my friend will.”

The pendant spoke up, _“I cannot.”_

Vision inhaled, _what do you mean you can’t?_

_“Agatha’s mind is cloudy. She’s shielding a part of her mind from me. I’m blocked.”_

_I didn’t know that was possible._

_“Neither did I.”_

Agatha sneered then, “having some trouble there, Vision?”

Vision looked down at Agatha in shock, “are you using… magic?”

Agatha chuckled, leaning her head against the wall, and stared up at the ceiling, “I don’t have much left, but yes. My power may be dwindling, but I have just enough to block you out.” 

Vision narrowed his eyes, “if that’s the case, why didn’t you do this the moment I walked through the door?” 

Agatha smiled, not a sneer, a genuine, content smile. “Magic is a fickle thing, Vision. It’s not all blood sacrifices and mixing potions; it is often much more spiritual, less material. Magic, true magic, comes from within your soul. And _nothing_ in this world strengthens the soul quite like love. But I think you already know all that.”

Vision could only stare at Agatha, completely stunned. 

“That will be all for today, Lady Harkness.” He finally breathed after a long moment. 

Turning on his heel, Vision opened the cell door and strode out into the hallway without another word, unable to see how the witch looked on at him with pity in her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOAH, that was a lot of writing. I apologize for such a huge chapter, I debated splitting it into two but the story wouldn't have flown as well, so I hope you all don't mind!
> 
> So a couple things for this story:  
> 1\. Historically witches were not actually burned at the stake during the Salem witch trials, they were hanged. But, for the sake of the story's title and thematic drama, I am taking some creative liberties and saying that burning is how witches are executed.  
> 2\. In this story Vision cannot shoot lasers from the pendant or phase through walls. I changed his powers to mesh better with the plot and the subsequent use that these new abilities will have, I hope everyone is cool with this change. 
> 
> that's it for now! Until next time my readers!
> 
> -Argo


	5. Growing Pains

“She confessed too easily, Minister. She did it, as odd as it may sound, to change the subject.” Vision stood in front of Minister Hayward, who sat at his desk within his office, listening to Vision recount his interrogation with Agatha. 

The Minister sat forward, laced his fingers together, and tapped his foot, thinking. “Change the subject from what?”

“When probing her thoughts, my pendant discovered that Agatha was ‘protecting someone.’ Immediately after revealing this, Agatha confessed her crimes.” 

The Minister’s eyes narrowed, “protecting _whom_?”

Vision paused, “I don’t know, sir, Lady Harkness… blocked out the telepathy. She apparently used what remained of her magic to do this.”

The Minister sat up straight, rage twisting his features, “she used witchcraft?! Right in front of you?!”

“Yes- well, I didn’t see her do anything. It just sort of… happened. She used her magic to counteract my pendent, but, whoever Lady Harkness wishes to protect, she values more than her own life. Agatha _knew_ confessing would confuse me and steer the conversation away from this person.”

Vision paused, collecting his thoughts, “Agatha knows she’s a dead woman. She knew it the minute she walked through the town gates. She would have dragged the interrogation out for hours just to you with me had it been up to her, but she confessed willingly when faced with a choice: reveal her loved one or expose herself completely.” 

“What about her magic? Is she still a threat?” 

Vision shook his head, “no sir, though I know nothing about witchcraft, Agatha stated that whatever power she had left was used to keep me from invading her thoughts.” Vision paused, “she was too weak to do anything else.” 

“The pendant.” 

Vision looked up, confused, “I’m sorry, sir?”

The Minister narrowed his eyes, “Lady Harkness used her witchcraft to keep the _pendant_ from invading her thoughts, not you. Or am I mistaken?”

Vision swallowed, “no, sir, you’re correct. Forgive me, I misspoke.” 

The Minister was silent for a long moment, turning Vision’s words over in his head, “You have done well, Vision. Not only have you gotten the confession I asked for in record time, but you have also exposed the possibility of another witch hiding out somewhere.” Hayward rose from his chair and walked around his desk to stand in front of Vision. The Minister laid a hand on Vision’s shoulder, “you have proven yourself to be a true servant of the Lord, Victor. Your father is looking down at you with pride. I know it.” 

Vision smiled broadly at the praise, ecstatic that he had finally earned the Minister’s approval, “thank you, sir. This means a great deal to me.” 

“And as a reward for your loyalty and good work,” the Minister turned away from Vision and sat down at his desk, grabbing a piece of parchment paper and began scribbling down text. “I am appointing you as the leader of a new hunting party; you will set out within a week, and you shall track down this second witch.” 

The Minister rolled the parchment up and handed it to Vision, “give this to Captain Rogers. He will aid with your travel preparations and have you properly trained in tracking.” 

Vision was at a loss for words but accepted the scroll carefully, “you honor me beyond words, Minister. I will not fail you.” 

Minister Hayward nodded and smiled, “if there is nothing else, then you are dismissed, Victor.” 

Vision paused, “actually, sir, I was wondering, what happens to Lady Harkness now?”

Hayward leaned back into his chair, “her trial is still scheduled a fortnight from now. I have sent riders to deliver invitations to Andover and Topsfield’s Ministers to come to Salem and act as my advisors. I shall be the judge, of course, and a reasonable jury will be selected within the week.”

Vision nodded, satisfied, “thank you, sir. I shall see you in church tomorrow morning, then.” 

Minister Hayward smiled, “God bless you, Victor.”

\---

After giving the Minister’s scroll detailing Vision’s new mission to Captain Rogers, Steve made the announcement public inside the Watchmen headquarters. 

“The Minister has ordered that Vision shall lead an expedition into the woods next week on a hunt for a new suspected witch, I shall remain here in Salem, but seven of you will be joining him on the search.” 

The crowd of Watchmen around Vision whispered and grumbled in surprise, side-eyeing him and shaking their heads. Vision fidgeted under their scrutiny, feeling his stomach churn. 

Clint Barton stood from the crowd, “no offense, Vision, but you’re not exactly qualified to lead a mission like this.” 

Rhodey stood as well, addressing Cap, “he hasn’t been beyond the town walls in over a decade. How is he supposed to lead a hunting party?” Rhodey turned his attention to Vision, “do you have any experience tracking?”

Vision didn’t look away from Rhodey’s inquisitive stare, “no, I don’t.” 

The crowd of Watchmen groaned and added their assent to the idea of Vision leading the party.

**_I can’t believe the Minister._ **

**_Has he gone mad? Putting that freak in charge._ **

**_He’s unqualified, untrained._ **

**_The devil whispers in his ear, and now we are being sent to capture a witch with him in charge? This is madness._ **

Vision inhaled sharply. What. The. Hell. 

The voices spoken allowed of Watchmen blended with their thoughts, and Vision could hear it all. It was so unbelievably loud, and Vision had to suppress the urge to cover his ears like a frightened child. Their distrust in him, their anger at his promotion, their suspicion of his power. It was so awful, the truth of their feelings towards him. 

Vision had always been the black sheep of the Watchmen, for apparent reasons. Though he had proved himself to be a more than competent soldier over and over again, most of the Watchmen stayed away from him. The exception being Sam, of course, who indeed was a good friend, yet that did not stop him from being wary of Vision at times. The pendant made them all afraid of him. They saw him as unworthy. 

_MAKE IT STOP,_ Vision commanded to the pendant. 

_“I cannot.”_

Thank God for Sam, who stood up just then and spoke above the crowd, “Vision has proven himself to be a more than capable Watchmen for years. He has shown leadership and cool-headedness under times of stress and has committed his life to keep this town safe. He’s the smartest man I know, and also the most kind.” Sam nodded, “it’s about time we gave him a chance.” 

Vision stared at Sam, at a loss for words. 

“Sam is right.” Captain Rogers finally spoke up, “though this is a unique circumstance, Vision has earned this position.” Steve held up the scroll from Minister Hayward, “Vision successfully interrogated Agatha Harkness yesterday, and pull forth from her a full confession without torture.” 

Now _that_ made the Watchmen shut up, who now looked at Vision with something akin to awe.

Steve continued, “I will train Vision this week in tracking, setting traps, and navigating the woods. By this time next week, he will be prepared enough for the expedition, and you all will aid him in this search. We are a team here; we are _brothers_. We must always look out for one another.” 

The crowd grumbled their agreement, with Sam even letting out a “hear hear!” 

Steve soon dismissed everyone and began tutoring Vision on the basics of the forest beyond Salem’s walls. The Captain had laid out an enormous map that detailed hunting trails and roads often tread by travelers going from village to village. “I’ll take you out into the forest tomorrow and show you the perimeter of the forest. You should know where to look for berries, roots, and bird nests in case you need extra food.” 

Steve spent the rest of the day instructing Vision on laying traps for squirrels, bobcats, and deer alike. By sunset, Vision had mastered the snares necessary for trapping the animals, and Steve patted him on the back, “you’ll do just fine out there!” 

All the watchmen assembled for supper that evening, and Vision got the chance to finally speak with Sam, “thank you. For sticking up for me today.” 

Sam patted him on the back, “not a problem, pal. But hey, if you get the chance, recommend me to Cap for the hunt, alright? I need to get out of this place just as much as you do!”

Vision chuckled, “of course I will. I’m going to need your help for this one.” 

The rest of the night proceeded calmly, with the Watchmen actually wanting to talk with Vision about the upcoming search, to which Vision accepted their advice and insight with much enthusiasm. 

\---

Once the sun had set and the moon was high in the sky, Vision returned home for the night. Flopping into bed, he stared up at the ceiling. 

Vision spoke to the air, “why in God’s name was I able to hear those people’s thoughts today? That’s never happened before.” 

The Pendant had always been a filter of sorts; it received the thoughts from people’s brains and occasionally decided to tell them to Vision. _Never_ had random thoughts came crashing into his brain like a storm, it had been overwhelming, suffocating. 

The Pendant finally spoke, _“You’ve never accepted me, Vision. All these years and you were repulsed by me, but I respected your wishes. You shut me out because the Ministers told you I was evil, but I am not. Now that you are speaking with me, our bond is growing.”_

Vision inhaled, “what does that mean?”

_“You are my host, Vision, but I am not a parasite leeching the life from you. I am empowering you. To exist, I have always needed a lifeform to attach myself to, to keep my spirit within the material plane. I have no body. I am only thought, pure knowledge, and discovery. I am an ever-expanding database, though you don’t even know what that is. But I will teach you. You are accepting me, and thus we are merging.”_

Vision whispered, “merging…?”

_“I told you once. I am within your soul. I have always been here, but you always blocked me out. Now, I shall integrate within your own mind. You will no longer have to ask me questions, for the answers will be there waiting, but you will need to train to control your telepathy. The premonitions you see in your dreams will remain random, I have no control over their occurrences.”_

Vision’s breath quickened, “a-and what about you?”

_“What about me?”_

“You told me that you are my friend… what will happen to your voice.”

The pendant glowed, _“my voice will fade into your own thoughts. You asked me once what I am Vision? I am the Mindstone. I am your magic. I am you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll this thing is consuming my life. 
> 
> ANYWAY, I hope everything is clear with what is going on regarding Vision and the Mindstone, pretty soon Vision will be able to read minds all by himself, look at him go!
> 
> I'm working on chapter 6 right now, which was supposed to be apart of this chapter but things got too long so I split it up. Things will be heating up very soon I promise *evil laughter*
> 
> -Argo


	6. Eyes of Hellfire

Vision was being strangled.

Heaving, Vision rolled out of his bed and onto the floor, clawing at his neck in desperation. 

Adrenaline coursing through him, Vision kneeled and breathed frantically, blinking the sleep from his eyes, which adjusted to the darkness to see what was choking him.

The pendent was _floating_ in front of his body, pulling his neck forcefully towards the door. 

Vision coughed, “What in God’s name are you-” 

Then he felt it. 

Vision stood slowly, his heart racing in his chest, the pendent tugged persistently towards the door. Vision wanted to, no, _needed_ to go. 

Go where?!

“What… What is going on?” Vision whispered. It was like a sixth sense had awoken inside of him. He could sense… energy. Yes, that was the right word. The energy shifted and breathed, beckoning him with a crooked finger. It felt so incredibly familiar it stirred his heart. 

_“She is here.”_

Vision barely acknowledged the words; he had thrown on his boots and cloak, grabbed his musket, and was out of the door in a minute. 

Vision shook the remaining sleep from his mind. What the hell was he doing? Walking out of his house in the middle of the night? For what?! 

The Pendant directed him where to go, it pulled forward lightly, and Vision followed his yellow guide in the dark. The night was eerily quiet. Vision looked around, and there was not a single light was seen inside a house. Usually, a couple of Watchmen would be out about patrolling the town, but Vision didn’t see or hear _anyone._ Only the moon offered some source of light and comfort. 

But the answer was there, just beyond reach. Vision shivered. Something was calling him, the pendant, towards the jailhouse. 

He knew in his gut something was wrong then. Vision started running. He needed to get inside. He needed to find- 

“Bruce!” Vision had burst through the jailhouse doors and saw the warden lying face down on the floor. Kneeling, Vision turned the man over onto his back, shaking his shoulders, “Bruce! Bruce! Come on, wake up! What-” Vision stopped shaking him and gasped in surprise. 

Bruce’s eyes were wide open, but circling in his irises and around his temples were wisps of red haze that moved like mist.

Vision could only stare down at Bruce in horror. Coming to his senses, Vision checked his pulse and, to his relief, found one. 

A crash echoed down the hallway leading to the cells, and Vision quite nearly jumped out of his skin. The pendant rose and started pulling him forward once more, this time towards where the noise came from. The feeling returned once more, and he could sense the energy down the hall, stronger. 

Vision stood slowly, steeling his nerves. Carefully, Vision loaded his musket and pulled back the lock, ready to fire if anything attacked. 

Quietly, Vision crept his way down the jailhouse hallway, gripping his gun so hard his knuckles turned white. The pendant levitated forward, the glow increasing in intensity, almost blinding him. Vision could feel it, though. He was close, so very close. 

He reached the end of the hallway. Vision now stood only several feet away from Agatha’s cell door, which, to Vision’s horror, was cracked _open_ and—

“...foolish child! Do you realize what you’ve done by coming here?! You’ve doomed us all.” Agatha’s voice came out in a harsh whisper, furious.

“Please cease with the dramatics, Agatha.” Vision heard the scraping of metal before what sounded like a chain hit the stone floor. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t come after you?” Another woman’s lightly accented voice answered in response. 

Vision inhaled sharply. Another witch had come to break Agatha out of prison, and she had put Bruce under some spell. The pendant around Vision’s neck pulled harder towards the inside of the cell, and suddenly the urge to enter the room was too great to ignore.

Mustering up all his courage, Vision raised his leg and kicked in the door, entering the cell and raising his gun to fire at the threat inside. 

Scarlet eyes stared right through Vision’s soul within the pitch-black cell, her irises telling of an unfathomably deep ocean of pure malice. 

_Oh no._

A blast of red energy shot from the darkness, smashing through Vision’s chest and sending him crashing out into the hallway flat on his back. 

Groaning, Vision curled onto his side and propped himself up on one arm, trying to clear the yellow spots from his eyes. His entire body now ached, yet was... Warm? Vision’s head was throbbing something fierce; he had slammed it hard against the hard stone floor on impact. 

_“Get. UP.”_

Vision rolled onto his knees, sputtering, “I’m trying!” 

**_BOOM_ **

Vision was knocked to the floor again as a forceful explosion came from Agatha’s cell, causing the entire jailhouse to shake. Dust and rubble were kicked up inside the cell and sprayed into the hallway; Vision covered his eyes and coughed to keep the smoke from his lungs. 

Staggering to his feet, Vision held his arm out, propping himself against the wall to gain some balance, his head swimming. Taking a deep breath, Vision stumbled into the cell and gaped when he saw what remained of the room. 

The cell’s left wall had been completely blasted open by some enormous force of power, leaving chunks of stone and rubble scattered around the room, with no sign of Agatha or the second witch to be found. 

Vision grabbed his musket from the floor and ran out of the cell into the night air, looking around wildly, eyes landing on the town wall which stood silent, not a Watchman in sight. Where was everyone?! The sound of that explosion should have woken half the town, yet Vision saw no one in sight except—

Glowing red wisps of energy in the distance caught Vision’s attention, accompanied by two retreating figures dodging behind a cottage. 

Vision broke into a sprint, moving as fast as his aching legs would carry him. Vision knew that he wouldn’t be able to shoot them. It would take too long to reload, so his best chance was to overpower them with his bare hands. He needed help though, that witch could blast him to pieces if given a second chance. 

Looking around wildly, Vision finally spotted two people leaning against a building wall. 

“HEY, HEY! The witch has escaped! We need help!” Vision ran over to them, screaming. The two men stood staring off into space, their eyes glazed over in a red haze. Vision screamed in frustration, grabbing them both by the shoulders, shaking them, _willing_ them to snap out of it. 

A yellow light surged from Vision’s fingertips and into the men’s bodies, traveling up their necks and into their heads. Vision stumbled back in surprise, and the two men gasped, the red light fading from their eyes. 

They looked at Vision and then each other in bewilderment, but Vision had no time to check to see if they were alright. Instead, Vision grabbed one of the men by the shoulder and rasped, “Agatha Harkness has escaped, find the watchmen, tell them she is heading near the east end of town, go, NOW!” 

The two men stuttered and nodded, running off, yelling at the top of their lungs for the Watchmen, or anyone, to help. 

His yellow pendant rose into the air once more, pulling Vision forward, directing him where to go. Vision started sprinting once more, following the pull of energy he now knew meant the witches’ location. 

Vision ran through the shadows of Salem’s moonlit alleyways, allowing his senses to guide him as he skidded around buildings and lept over fences, drawing closer to his target. After about two minutes of running, his pendant glowed brighter, and Vision knew he was close. Ducking behind the corner of a building, Vision heard voices then, speaking in rushed whispers. 

“...make it home with me like this. You’re not strong enough to carry us both.” Agatha’s rasping voice was heard in the dark.

Vision peered around the corner, and he saw the old witch sitting with her back against the town wall, breathing heavily. The moon illuminated them both, and Vision could see that Agatha’s bare feet were nothing short of mangled. The second witch kneeled in front of Agatha, chanting softly, waving her hands slowly over Agatha’s legs. Her eyes were closed, face furrowed in concentration. 

Vision knew he should attack immediately, but his instincts told him to stay put, so he watched the two women with curiosity. 

Now that they weren’t in the pitch-black, Vision saw that this new witch was a young woman in her early twenties; her long brown hair flowed around her face in waves, dancing in the soft wind. Vision couldn’t help but be entranced by the way she wove her fingers, casting red tendrils over Agatha’s feet and legs, which appeared to be slowly stitching her wounds back together. 

“Wanda, _please,_ ” Agatha begged quietly. 

The woman named Wanda looked up sharply from her work, and Vision could see her red eyes shine in the moonlight, brimming with unshed tears. 

“I can’t. I _can’t_ lose you too.” Wanda whispered, her voice cracking. 

Just then, the town bells started ringing loudly, jarring Vision back to reality. The shouts of men sounded along the parapets, and Vision saw the lights of torches approaching on the walls as running footsteps started drawing near. 

Agatha raised a hand and placed it on Wanda’s cheek, “please leave. They need you.” 

Tears fell from Wanda’s eyes as she stood slowly, her whole body shaking. 

Agatha’s eyes left Wanda’s and drifted past her… her sight landing right on Vision. “He’s here.”

Wanda whipped her head around in alarm, raising her hand as another blast of red energy came screeching from her fingertips. 

Vision jumped out of the way just in time, ducking and rolling out into the open as Wanda’s power blasted into the building where he was standing a second ago, leaving a crater. 

Vision ran two steps forward without thinking and tackled Wanda, grabbing her wrists and pinning her to the ground. 

Wanda snarled, her eyes glowing the color of hellfire. “Get. Off.” 

Scarlet tendrils escaped from the witch’s hands, passing through Vision’s temple to no effect. The red in Wanda’s eyes flickered for just a second, confusion and fear marring her features, “ _what?!_ ”

Before Vision could respond, pain exploded through the back of his head, causing him to fall off of Wanda and onto the ground, moaning in pain. 

He looked up, eyesight blurring at the edges, and saw Agatha towering above him with a rock in hand.

Vision palmed the back of his head and felt wetness. It felt like a hundred tiny knives were driving into his brain, and he struggled to lift his body. 

The sounds of running came closer and closer, and Vision knew his fellow Watchmen would be here soon, though he doubted he would live to see the witches apprehended. 

But Agatha’s attention was not upon finishing Vision off. Instead, she lifted Wanda to her feet, brushing the dirt from the young woman’s hair, and said, “I love you, now _go._ ”

Wanda pulled Agatha into a desperate hug, “I love you, ama.” 

Vision watched in amazement as Wanda propelled herself over the town wall, red energy blazing from her hands until she disappeared from view without a second glance. Agatha watched the wall for a long moment before returning her gaze to Vision, who now lay on his back, half-conscious. 

Agatha knelt next to the fallen Watchman, a small smile gracing her features, “I hope you survive the night, Vision Abernathy.” Agatha cooed softly. Around them, the Watchmen had arrived, torches and guns in hand, aimed at Agatha if she dared make another move. Yet, she only kept staring at Vision, “I know you will. You’re a survivor. Just like she is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Queen has arrived. 
> 
> Ya'll I am so sorry it has taken this long for Wanda to show up, but I hope her grand entrance did not disappoint. 
> 
> But as always, thank you for reading, and until next time my dudes!
> 
> -Argo


	7. Tooth and Nail

Flying through the forest at night, despite what one might think, proved to be exceedingly tricky. 

The moon offered only such much light, and Wanda knew she had to stay within the trees or risk her red light being spotted if she flew too high. This made for a disastrous escape attempt, as she continually dodged branches that snagged on her dress and shielded her eyes from pine needles. 

The power at her fingertips flowed easily as Wanda was running on pure adrenaline, yet that didn’t stop the sobs from wracking her body. 

_Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ Wanda tormented herself. How could she have let this happen? Everything had been working, and they had almost gotten out! She had planned her attack meticulously; Wanda had been _certain_ everyone in the entire town was either dazed or sleeping. How had she missed one?! 

But Wanda knew. That Watchman with the blonde hair and sky blue eyes who had tackled her and resisted her control…. he had the Mindstone. 

Wanda could barely suppress a scream of pure frustration. Her powers lashed out around her unbidden, shattering tree trunks and branches into splinters. 

Wanda ducked and covered her eyes, lowering herself to the ground, falling on her knees. Tears spilled hot and heavy down her cheeks, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed into her hands. 

Agatha’s touch still burned on Wanda’s cheek, and her imploring eyes telling her to leave would haunt Wanda until the end of her days. Wanda knew, she just knew, she would never see her mentor again. Agatha would die like her parents. She would be burned at the stake because Wanda had _failed_. 

The sounds of dogs howling came from not far behind Wanda, followed by the jeers of men and galloping horses. 

Wanda cursed under her breath and started running, jumping into the air once more in flight. The sounds of the hunting party drew closer. Wanda looked behind and saw the lights of torches racing steadily towards her location. Wanda could only fly as fast as she could run, meaning she had no chance of out-speeding men on horses, and with the hounds tracking her, she couldn’t hide without them sniffing her out. 

Which only left one option. 

Quickly, Wanda lept into an oak tree’s tall branches, diffused her powers, and waited in the darkness. From her vantage point in the trees, Wanda saw as the hounds and horses drew closer. Listening to the savage howls and barks sent shivers down her spine and unease built in her gut. 

Taking a deep breath Wanda tried to calm her racing heart, which threatened to beat straight out of her chest. She had to wait for them to come to her. 

Wanda smirked, _I am the patient twin, after all._

The hunting party burst through the trees not a minute later, the hounds howling and sniffing where Wanda had last stood, circling. The huntsmen raised their torches, drawing their horses around the trees, searching. Several had muskets at the ready to shoot anything that moved.

The hounds sniffed and drew closer right under the oak that Wanda sat in, before leaning their heads back and howling, scratching at the trunk. 

The huntsmen looked up, yet had no time to react as the Scarlet Witch descended upon them.

Raising her arms, Wanda called forth her power and commanded, _“sleep.”_

Two shots were fired. One grazed Wanda’s torso. 

Red tendrils of magic shot from Wanda’s fingertips like ink in water, seeping through the hunters’ skulls and dulling their consciousness immediately until each and every one collapsed off of their horses. 

Wanda collapsed onto her knees, gasping in agony as she palmed her side, which immediately started gushing blood. Groaning, Wanda stood, just in time to watch as a hound leaped and knocked her back to the ground, its jaws locking onto her right forearm. 

Screaming in pain, Wanda used her left hand to slam a blast of vicious red energy into the dog’s body, brutally knocking it away from her and into a nearby tree trunk. Wanda rolled onto her side, clutching her mauled arm, and stared at the dog, whose body gave a few desperate twitches before lying still. 

Wanda breathed heavily, looking around at her good work. All of the men were fast asleep, lying unconscious on the forest floor. The horses had run off along with the other dogs, leaving Wanda alone and safe, for now. 

Slowly, Wanda stood and began walking away from the scene, aching legs protesting her every move. She couldn’t stop, in case more men were being sent chasing after her. After about a minute of stumbling, the agony in her hand and side became almost too much to bear, and Wanda had to lean against a tree trunk, heaving. 

Lifting her cloak, Wanda assessed the damage done to her side. While the bullet had only grazed her, quite a lot of blood was still leaking from the wound. The sight made her dizzy, but right now she needed to focus, or risk passing out from blood loss. 

Lifting her left hand over the wound, Wanda called forth her power, focusing on knitting the torn flesh back together, speaking softly the words of a healing spell. 

Healing with magic took absolute focus and dexterity, which was even harder when considering Wanda’s other hand was currently trembling and bleeding. Agatha hadn’t permitted Wanda to learn healing spells for years until her mentor was absolutely certain she was ready, and for good reason. Healing, though useful, could end disastrously if performed wrong. The energy sealing skin cells back together could also tear the wound open further if manipulated incorrectly. 

Thankfully, Wanda had been trained well, and soon her bullet wound was stitched enough to stop the bleeding. Removing her cloak, Wanda tore three strips from the burgundy cloth, wrapping one around her stomach, and the other two around her arm and then her neck, placing her mangled arm in a sling. Wanda didn’t have enough strength to tend to her arm, and even now the threat of exhaustion pulled at her eyelids. 

Despite her fatigue, Wanda continued walking forward, needing to put as much space between her and Salem as possible. 

Hours passed as Wanda trudged through the forest, eventually exiting the trees before a wide river bank. Wanda, using what little strength she had left, used her left arm to propel herself over the frigid water, barely clearing the river and half collapsing onto the shore, her boots now wet. Wanda continued forward into the trees, following the invisible path upward that leads to her safe haven. 

Another hour passed, causing the night to grow colder, and Wanda began wondering if she would indeed live to see the morning. Her feet had long gone numb, her legs were shaking from exhaustion, and her breathing was ragged. She couldn’t feel her right hand. 

Then Wanda climbed over the last boulder, and there it was. 

To anyone else, it was a dead end. Before Wanda stood a cliff face that towered over 500 feet, its imposing presence radiating an energy of _“stay away.”_ This was not a coincidence. 

Wanda stumbled forward, left hand raised, and palmed a specific crevice in the cold hard stone. Immediately, red symbols glowed forth from the rock, and Wanda stepped forward, passing through the once-solid cliff face. 

Inside the mountain, chandeliers floated and glowed, casting a warm yellow light upon the exhausted witch. Beautifully carved bookshelves stretched to the ceiling, encircling the entire room, and scrolls floated and exchanged places on their own. Silk thread carpets and tapestries lay upon the stone floors and walls, depicting great myths and battles, accenting the mountain in colors of royal blue, red, yellow, and purple. At the center of the great hall stood a mahogany long table, at which six chairs sat, yet only three were occupied. 

Darcy Lewis, Jimmy Woo, and Monica Rambeau all stood immediately at Wanda’s entrance, their faces gaping in shock at her condition. 

Wanda managed a half-smile, “Hey guys, I’m home,” she laughed, before collapsing onto the stone floor and slipping into unconsciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanda needs a hug, holy crap. 
> 
> SO, I decided to take a break from Vision and focus on Wanda for this chapter to set up that from now on I will be switching writing from both of their POVs. 
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone for reading, and until next time!
> 
> -Argo


	8. Fire and Fury

Salem was up in flames. 

Vision stared around, powerless, as his home burned like a funeral pyre. 

Women and children screamed and ran for cover as buildings exploded, the roar of the fire surrounding them at every turn. Smoke poisoned the air, and Vision covered his mouth, stumbling away from the intense heat. 

But the fire was everywhere; cottages, carts, and fences were ablaze and crackled like firewood. The ground burned as straw and hay caught fire, blocking people’s exits as they desperately tried to flee. The town wall, almost entirely made of oak, was an inferno. Watchmen and farmers alike ran with guns and water buckets in their hands as Captain Rogers shouted orders. 

Vision heard a woman’s cackle behind him. 

Turning slowly, Vision stared in abject horror as Wanda tilted her head and smirked right at him, her red eyes shimmering like the fire around them, “are you still scared of nightmares, Vizh?” 

Wanda raised her hand, and Vision’s world was consumed in scarlet. 

\---

Vision’s eyes snapped open, and he sat up in bed with a gasp, dragging in air through his lungs. 

A hand rested on Vision’s shoulder, and he jumped in alarm, prepared to fight.

“Woah, Woah, Woah! Easy there, soldier,” Captain Rogers sat on his left in an armchair, his hand still resting on Vision’s shoulder, “it’s ok, Vision, you’re safe, take a deep breath.” 

Vision’s shoulders slumped as he relaxed ever so slightly, leaning back into the bed in relief. 

Everything hurt. 

Vision’s head was, to put it frankly, in complete agony. Reaching his hand back, Vision felt bandages wrapped around his entire skull, barring his face. His chest and legs were sore and bruised. When Vision tried to sit up, his entire body shook from fatigue. His tongue felt like sandpaper. 

Vision turned his head, moistening his chapped lips, “water?”

Steve rose from his seat and walked to a nearby table, grabbing a water pitcher and pouring a cup. The Captian returned to Visions bedside and handed the glass to Vision, who drank down the contents greedily.

Vision licked his lips and cleared his throat, “how long have I been out, Captain?”

“You took quite the beating there, Vision,” Steve commented, sitting back into his chair, “you’ve been asleep for nearly three days.” 

Vision closed his eyes and groaned, bringing his hands up to his face; it was suddenly very bright in the room. “Three days? Are you joking?”

“Afraid not. Natasha’s pretty sure you have a concussion.” 

Natasha was Captain Rogers’ wife and the head nurse of Salem’s infirmary. She was incredibly sharp-witted and stubborn, making her not a woman to be trifled with. Many considered her to be an honorary Watchman despite her sex forbidding it, as Natasha had journeyed beyond Salem’s walls many times with the Watchmen during long travels to act as the group physician. Not only was she a medical expert, but also a sharpshooter with a pistol as well, sometimes even outmatching her husband. Steve had also trained her in hand-to-hand combat, making her, without a doubt, the deadliest woman Vision knew. 

_“Are you sure about that?”_ The pendant intoned. 

Vision ignored the pendant’s words, for now, returning his attention to Steve. 

“Did the witches escape?” Vision’s memory was a bit fuzzy; he remembered his head getting smashed like an egg, then, nothing. 

Steve leaned forward in his chair, “The red witch escaped, but you managed to stop Agatha. I, along with ten others, couldn’t reach you in time, but we saw the struggle you put up.” Steve smiled, “you’re the talk of the town Vision. Everyone knows of your bravery. Without you, Agatha would have escaped with us helpless.” 

Vision’s head spun with this information before landing on one thing, “everyone was… under some sort of trance, Captain.” 

Steve nodded, “aye, it was quite disturbing, to be frank. One minute I’m standing on the top of the wall, wide awake, then the next… I was in a red dream. Next thing I knew, Tony was shaking me awake, telling me that the witches were escaping.” 

There was a pause as Steve looked down at his hands before raising his eyes back to Vision, “two farmers, Coulson and Hogan, said you woke them up from the witches trance. How did you do it?”

Vision could see the curiosity in the Captain’s stare, along with a hint of suspicion. 

“I don’t know, sir.” Vision answered honestly, “I was chasing the witches, but I knew I couldn’t take them on alone, and those two men were the first ones I crossed… I screamed at them, shook them to wake up, and… they did.” 

Steve hummed, “You were the only one awake, Vision. Out of a town of 300 people, everyone else was either asleep or under that witch’s spell. And I think we both know what sets you apart from everyone else.” 

Vision swallowed, following Steve’s line of sight to his chest, where the glowing pendant rested. The watchman looked back up at Steve nervously, “I swear I don’t know what happened, sir, one moment, I was in my bed fast asleep, and then… I had this feeling.” 

Pausing, Vision recalled exactly what he had felt, “I was drawn to the jailhouse, where the witches were, by my pendant. I could feel this energy luring me there.” Vision paused, “it led me straight to the red witch.” 

Steve’s eyes widened, “are you saying that your pendant is somehow… drawn to the witch’s magic?”

Vision hesitated, “...something like that, yes. It’s a working theory.” Clearing his throat, Vision continued, “when I tackled her, the witch tried to use her mind control on me; I’m guessing the same as she did to you all, but it did nothing.” Another memory returned, “the red witch… her name is Wanda.” 

Steve straightened immediately in his chair, “what did you say?” 

Vision eyed the Captain uneasily then, his stomach churning, “I heard Agatha address the red witch as Wanda.” 

Captain Rogers’ face paled significantly, “thank you, Vision, you have done a great service to your town. Now I must bring this news to the Minister.”

Vision sputtered, “wait! Captain, please, who is this woman?”

The Captain’s eyes dropped to the floor, “It happened over a decade ago, but I’m sure you remember, though maybe not their names.” 

Vision swallowed as he felt his heartbeat increase, for he could tell what was coming. Yes, the thoughts were already within Steve Rogers’ brain, and Vision could hear them as clearly as if he had spoken aloud. 

**_Fourteen years ago, Minister Ultron burned Irina and Elog Maximoff at the stake for their crimes of practicing witchcraft. Their twin children, Wanda and Pietro, were assumed dead._ **

**_Wanda Maximoff is alive, and she here to unleash the devil upon us._ **

\---

Vision tried to sleep for the rest of the day, but this task proved futile as the memories of his dream and his actual encounter with Wanda Maximoff played in his head. 

The memory of her blood-red eyes sent shivers down his spine. The raw power that came from her fingertips was unbelievable. She had been ruthless in her work, desperate to free Agatha, yet she hadn’t killed anyone. So, she wasn’t a complete monster. 

Not yet, at least. 

Vision consulted inward. _Why was I so drawn to Wanda Maximoff’s power that night? You lead me straight to her, and her mind control had no effect. Is it because you protect me from magic?_

There was a long silence before, “ _yes.”_

Vision shifted uneasily, _is that all? It seems like there is more to it than that._

Another long pause. 

_“You are not prepared for the whole truth yet.”_

Vision lifted his hands to his face, his head throbbing so hard he almost cried. Regardless, Vision couldn’t just sit here any longer, sitting up in bed, the Watchman rang the bell placed at his bedside. 

A young nurse, miss Carter, appeared within a minute, “do you need more water, Mr. Abernathy?”

Vision shook his head, “if you could, please send someone to fetch the Minister. I must speak with him immediately on a matter of most urgency.” 

\---

That evening, The Minister listened intently as Vision recounted his premonition. 

“She’s a threat to the entire town, sir; her magic is too strong. We must go after Wanda.”

The Minister scoffed, “a hunting party was sent out immediately after you fell on the field, Victor. They returned the following morning, saying that the witch had put them all asleep. _Again_. Captain Rogers and his men tried to pick up the scent again with the hounds but found nothing. Even if they had, I fear for what might have happened to them.” 

Vision nodded slowly, “she hasn’t killed anyone yet, sir.” 

The Minister narrowed his eyes at that, but Vision continued, “I’m the only one in this entire town she can’t control. You know that my visions of the future come true… This whole town will go up in flames if I do nothing.” 

Vision looked Hayward in the eyes, “you must allow me to go after Wanda.”

“Absolutely not.” Hayward retorted.

Vision balked, “but sir, Salem is under threat-!”

Hayward raised his voice, “I know _EXACTLY_ how much of a threat this witch is, soldier. But I refuse to risk my greatest weapon by sending him out there on his lonesome. You almost died three days ago and are in no condition to even fight. You have no experience tracking or living in the wild. If you don’t die from exposure or your injuries, that witch will destroy you.” 

Vision was about to counter that his pendant would bring him exactly to Wanda and that he did have a _little_ trapping experience, but Hayward stood to his feet and continued. 

“We will focus our efforts on building up Salem’s fortifications. The Ministers from Andover and Topsfield will be here any day now. Together, we shall pray and ask the Lord for guidance; he will grace us with the answers needed to bring the witch to justice. In the meantime, you will rest here and recover; then, you will return to your duties as a Watchman.” 

Vision sputtered, “what use is fortifying the walls if she has already attacked once and incapacitated the entire town?! Please, Minister, she could attack any day-” 

Hayward slammed his palm on the bedside table, making Vision flinch.

Anger radiated from the Minister in waves, but Vision did not cower, for he knew he was in the right. 

“Your Minister has given you a command, Victor.” Hayward seethed.

Vision could feel his anger rising as well, though he suppressed it, finally looking away, “yes, Minister, forgive me.” 

Without another word, Minister Hayward strode out of the infirmary. Vision watched him go silently, yet his resolve only grew stronger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about that latest episode of WandaVision, ya'll?? No spoilers here but I was SCREAMING. 
> 
> Anyways, back to my crazy AU, things are heating up between Vision and Hayward, what shall he do next?! 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, and until next time!
> 
> -Argo


	9. Fallout

Wanda opened her eyes and immediately regretted it. Her head spun as she tried to make sense of her surroundings, the fog of sleep still clouding her mind. 

Pain burned like fire at the back of her skull, her right hand and torso aching in protest as she tried to sit up in bed slowly. 

Blinking rapidly, Wanda rubbed the sleep from her eyes with her left hand and looked around, relieved to find that she was in her bedroom and not some dark, cramped cell. 

Wanda laid back against the pillows, letting out a long breath, and lifted her right hand to find that it had been properly dressed in gauze. Though she could barely move her fingers, Wanda could feel them all, which was a good sign. 

Reaching downwards, Wanda pressed gently against the bullet wound and winced. Her entire torso was wrapped in gauze. The stitches she had made that night had likely torn open at some point on her journey back home, forcing someone to perform emergency surgery on her. 

Wanda groaned into her hands. They were not going to be happy with her. 

Throwing back the blankets, Wanda rose to her feet slowly, testing her balance. Her torso and hand ached but overall weren’t too painful. The back of her head ached in a way that Wanda couldn’t place a reason for, but shrugged it off. She had probably hit her head when she passed out from exhaustion. 

Wanda walked to her dresser, pulled open the drawers, and fetched a new dress and underthings, shivering. 

Her room, like every room beneath the mountain, was carved out of stone. For obvious reasons, this made the mountain fairly chilly even during the summer months; fortunately, an abundance of fur rugs and magic candles that radiated heat always maintained the stone chambers at a comfortable temperature. 

Throwing on her red dress and boots, Wanda exited her room and into the hallway, which was lit with torches, and guided her towards the great hall, where she could sense her friends waited. 

Wanda stepped into the light of the towering library and immediately drew the attention of Monica and Jimmy, who were sitting at the long table and had been in deep conversation. 

Monica immediately rose from her seat and strode over to Wanda, fury marring her features. 

Jimmy stood, “Monica, stop-”

Wanda stood her ground, knowing what was about to happen as Monica grabbed the front of Wanda’s dress, pulling her forward, “you _idiot.”_

Wanda pulled in a deep breath, “Monica, please, I’m sorry-”

“Oh, you’re _sorry_ ?!” A snarl ripped from Monica’s throat, “Sorry for lying? Sorry for leaving without us? Sorry for showing up half-dead on our doorstep? Sorry for doing exactly the one thing Agatha told us _never to do?!”_

“I had no choice, Monica. I had to go alone to keep you all safe-” 

“You don’t get to make that decision for us, Wanda! You’re not in charge here.” 

Monica’s eyes glazed over in a blue haze, and Wanda pulled forth her own magic and prepared to fight when a green wall of energy formed between the two women, pushing them apart. 

“That’s enough!” Jimmy shouted. His arm was raised, and green particles spiraled around his hand. 

The two women continued to glare at one another but diffused their powers, and Jimmy lowered the barrier between them with a sigh. 

Wanda broke eye contact strode past Monica, walking to the long table and pulling back her chair before sitting down with a wince. She needed to take it easy or risk reopening her wounds.

Jimmy sat back down at his chair across from Wanda and leaned forward, his eyes full of concern, “Wanda… what were you thinking?”

Monica had returned to her seat next to Jimmy, continuing to glare daggers into Wanda, who now looked down at her hands, guilty. 

“I knew if something were to go wrong, and it did, that you all would be safer here than risk you all getting captured or killed in that hellhole of a town,” Wanda spoke softly. 

Monica scowled, “we had a _plan_ , Wanda! You agreed that we would all rescue Agatha together!” 

“I’m sorry I lied. I thought I was strong enough… but I was wrong.” Wanda paused for a long moment, “and now Agatha will die because I couldn’t save her.” 

Monica’s face contorted, “that’s right, if she dies, it will be on YOUR head, Wanda, because of your impulsive arrogance.” 

“I miscalculated.” Wanda whispered and raised her head, “There's a man in Salem. I thought I had put everyone under my control… but he slipped past my detection. I couldn’t control him because he had the Mindstone.” 

They both straightened at that, their eyes wide in shock. Jimmy whispered, “are you certain?” 

Wanda nodded, “not only did he resist my mind control… he woke the whole town up from it. If it weren’t for him, Agatha and I would’ve made it out.” 

Deafening silence ensued as Jimmy and Monica processed this information. 

“If he has the Mindstone, that makes him a serious threat.” Monica leaned back into her chair and stared at the ceiling. “It’s a miracle he isn’t dead, living in a town full of damned _Puritans_.” 

Wanda nodded, “that thought occurred to me as well. Those people jump at the slightest mention of the devil yet accept a man hosting an infinity stone into their ranks? There’s more to the story.” 

Jimmy huffed, “maybe they think the stone was sent from God.” 

Wanda scowled, “their ignorance isn’t even mildly amusing. Bunch of hypocrites, the whole lot of them.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that this man could retaliate against us. Did you fight him, Wanda?” 

Wanda closed her eyes, “I should have killed him when I had the chance. Like I said... I tried to control him, and it didn’t work. My energy blasts were able to hurt him, though. ” 

That was part of the truth. The whole truth was that when she blasted him the first time in the jailhouse, she had been so enraged that her intention had been deadly. Yet, he had miraculously survived; and when the stone keeper tackled her near the town wall, when they were that close, something inside her screamed not to kill him with a blast of her power. 

So, instinctively, she went with the non-lethal option. 

Wanda sighed, another thought occurring to her, “where’s Darcy?”

Monica scoffed, “cleaning up your mess. As soon as you dropped unconscious last night, Darcy immediately ran out of here to destroy the trail you left behind. She still isn’t back yet, so I assume you must’ve dropped quite a lot of blood.” 

Wanda cringed. This was another one of her oversights. Just by walking back to the mountain, hounds could track her air scent; forget it if she left a trail of _blood_. 

Swallowing her pride, Wanda looked Monica in the eye, “what I did was reckless and arrogant. I’m truly sorry for abandoning you all when I should have relied on us as a team. And thank you for stitching me up.” 

Monica stared Wanda down for a moment before a small smile crept onto her face, “don’t thank me for fixing your stupid injuries,” She jerked her head, indicating Jimmy. 

Wanda gasped in surprise, her face splitting into a grin, “has someone been practicing their healing spells?!” She looked at Jimmy, who now shifted side to side, a sheepish smile playing at his lips. 

“Maayybeee.” He said with a laugh.

The three of them laughed, and some merriment returned to the group, but soon the reality of the situation returned to them, and their smiles died. 

“What do we do now?” Jimmy asked quietly. 

“Once Darcy gets back… we will talk about returning to our _original_ plan for breaking Agatha out of Salem.” 

Wanda leaned her head against her hand, closing her eyes, “she could be dead already, Monica.” 

“Keyword being _could_. We have to try again, Wanda.” Monica insisted. “If she is still alive, they won’t properly execute her without a trial, which takes weeks to set up.”

Jimmy nodded, “if there’s still a chance, we have to try. Though we will need to wait a few days for you to heal completely, Wanda.” 

Wanda stared at her hands, “Agatha will hate us for it. She was furious when I broke her out. Before I left… she insisted I stay away.” Agatha hadn’t said the words out loud, but she knew Wanda could hear her loud and clear through telepathy. It physically hurt to think about those final moments with Agatha, losing the woman who had taken her in, _raised_ her and her brother, given her a family. 

Wanda looked up at Monica and paused, her sorrow burning away into determination, “but I was never very good at following her rules,” she said with a smirk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, things are in motion for the main plot to kick into high gear! Things will get spicy from here on out >:D
> 
> Thank you as always for reading, until next time my readers!
> 
> -Argo


	10. The Devil's Work

Vision waited until after midnight to make his move. 

Laying still in his bed at the infirmary, Vision waited until he heard all of the nurses turn in for the night, before slowly drawing back his blanket and sitting up quietly.

Lacing up his boots, Vision slowly made his way out of the building, opening and closing the door with care to make sure he did not wake any other sleeping occupants. 

Salem was quiet this late at night, but Vision took extra care walking in the shadows, avoiding Watchmen patrols as he headed to the village’s southern end. 

It took Vision a few more minutes than usual to arrive at the jailhouse, as waves of nausea and unbalance occasionally forced him to stop. His head throbbed in protest at his activity, but he persisted onward. 

Once Vision arrived at the jail, he noticed that the building still had one of its walls blasted out, but spare piles of new brick surrounding the outside suggested that rebuilding would commence soon enough. 

Before opening the front door, Vision hesitated. Maybe… he should try it. 

Closing his eyes, Vision tried to concentrate and… reach out. Metaphorically. He tried concentrating on the pendant and its power and willed its intrusive magic into the jailhouse to sense who stood on guard. His headache only grew in intensity.

After a few minutes, he got nothing.

_“A lackluster performance.”_

Vision almost collapsed in exhaustion right there but leaned against the wall, dragging in breaths through his nose, _I have a bloody concussion, and I’m trying to read people’s minds. Could you give me a hand?!_

_“I admire your determination, but you could’ve just asked in the first place.”_

Vision felt the overwhelming urge to smash his head into the brick wall but crushed the impulse on second thought.

A minute passed, and the pendant spoke, _“Bruce isn’t here. Two guards are on duty in front of Agatha’s cell.”_

Vision groaned, _who is it?_

_“Sam and Clint.”_

_I can work with that_ , Vision took a deep breath and opened the jailhouse door, trying to keep his balance as he walked calmly through the entrance and down the cells hallway. 

Vision spotted Sam and Clint, who stood yawning and chatting in front of what Vision assumed was Agatha’s cell. 

Vision steeled his nerves. _Here goes nothing._

Gasping dramatically, Vision stumbled down the hallway, his hand outstretched, “Sam! Sam, is that you…?” 

Sam nearly jumped out of his skin, raising his pistol before dropping it in shock at spotting the stumbling man, “Vision?! What the hell are you doing here, man?! You shouldn’t be out of the infirmary!” 

Clint ran forward and caught Vision, who had dramatically slumped to the side of the wall, looking like he was about to faint. “Vision, hey, Vision don’t pass out on us, alright? We’ll get you back.” 

“NO!” Vision cried, grasping his head as if he were in agony (which he kind of was), “it demands…. It demands to speak to her.” 

Clint and Sam both flinched at that. Clint spoke up first, “it…. You mean your pendant?!”

Vision shook his head from side to side, “It won’t stop, the voices, it’s too much! If it doesn’t commune with the witch, it threatens to kill me!” 

Clint and Sam both stepped away in shock before Clint jerked his head, “We must fetch the Minister. This is the devil’s work.” 

Vision reached out, grasping a terrified Clint by the collar, “No! Please! It threatens to burn Salem to the ground if it doesn’t get what it wants! I must speak with the witch!” Vision let out a groan of pain, grasping his aching head. 

Sam grabbed Vision off of Clint and said, “alright, alright! Fine, Vision, if this is the only way,” Sam grabbed his keys and opened the cell door. 

Vision stumbled inside, “Sam, you must wait outside, or the pendant may lash out and strike you down.”

Sam, understandably horrified, nodded, “we will be right outside.” The cell door shut behind Vision, leaving him alone once again in a cell with Agatha Harkness. 

Since the “witches cell” was out of commission, Agatha had been placed in a regular old holding cell, though this time she was bound with her hands tied behind her back and her feet chained together so that she could barely move. Agatha had lost a significant amount of weight, her face was pale and gaunt, yet her eyes remained as rebellious as ever, even bound in chains. 

Though if she did have her hands, Agatha would surely be clapping, for the amused smile on her face spoke of her delight, “that was quite the performance, Mr. Abernathy. I do wonder what has brought you to such desperate measures to want the pleasure of my company once again.” She spoke softly, her eyes glittering in the dark.

Vision chuckled and fell to his knees. He was in actual pain this time; yellow spots danced behind his eyelids. His head felt like it was being split open with an ax. 

“I need your help, Lady Harkness.” Vision shifted closer to the witch, who eyed him curiously. 

“My help?” The witch asked bemused, “this is quite the change in roles is it not, you being the beggar and I the one with the power?” 

Vision nearly fell onto his side, the room was suddenly spinning very fast, he could barely speak, “Please, I need you… to heal me.” 

Agatha’s eyes nearly popped out of her skull, “I’m sorry, _what?!”_

Vision gestured towards his head, “When we first met, I told you… I told you that I saw you die… In my dreams, do you remember?”

Agatha nodded slowly, and Vision continued, “I fear… I was mistaken. You see, at the time, I thought it was you who was tied to the stake. I know now, with better certainty, that it was Wanda Maximoff who I envisioned burning alive that night.” 

Vision had come to this conclusion after reflecting upon that he had not seen the woman’s face clearly enough in his dreams to tell, but the blood-red eyes that had glowed in the fire now gave him absolute certainty that it was Wanda that he saw burning alive. 

Agatha inhaled sharply and Vision could see her eyes widen with terror, “why are you telling me this?”

Vision had to keep a hand pressed to the ground to keep himself from dropping, “because… I want to stop it. Stop it from happening. Something I know you want as well.” 

Agatha’s eyes hardened, her lips turning into a sneer, “and since when has a Puritan ever wanted to save a witch’s life?” 

“Since said witch also threatens to… to burn my home to the ground. I’ve seen it, Lady Harkness…. Wanda… Wanda Maximoff destroys everything, kills everything I love.” Vision had to pause and catch his breath. He could barely see straight, “If… If Salem manages to capture her, it also means she will burn the village to ashes. Or she may just attack the town and kill us all… I have to… I have to find Wanda _now_ and convince her to leave.” 

Agatha narrowed her eyes, “leave?”

Vision coughed then, hacking up spit and bile, “it’s… it’s the only way I can see… You know my people won’t stop until we persecute and kill every witch, but I know that this will only lead to our destruction. If Wanda leaves the area, goes somewhere else, I don’t care where, the town will be safe, and she will live.” 

Agatha was silent for a long moment, “I’m afraid it is far more complicated than that, dear boy.” 

But Vision could barely hear Agatha. He was fading into the black, his consciousness once again being robbed from him. Vision fell onto his side, his exhaustion once again overtaking his will to remain awake. 

Agatha looked down at Vision once more with pity. He was strong, so very strong, and he wasn’t lying; that much was _abundantly_ clear. 

Agatha scowled. 

Wanda. That foolish, reckless child of hers. Always so passionate and vengeful. There was not a doubt in Agatha’s mind that Wanda would indeed return to Salem for her and, according to Vision, could die trying to rescue her _again._

Agatha’s thoughts turned to Monica, Jimmy, and Darcy. Vision likely did not know of them at all, yet she feared for them as well. Wanda had come alone the first time because of her impulsiveness, yet all four of her students may yet be plotting another rescue attempt. 

The old witch gazed down at the yellow pendant, which glowed softly at Vision’s neck, and Agatha smiled. It was so obvious as to why the Mindstone chose this boy as its host. 

He had a good soul. Simple as that. 

Agatha sighed deeply and spoke softly, “I hope I don’t regret this.”

\---

Vision woke from his unconsciousness with a start, and he felt… _great._ His head ached slightly, but it no longer felt like it was about to split in two, and his once weary body no longer felt exhausted.

Sitting up, Vision looked around in the dark, and his memories came crashing back to him as his eyes landed on Agatha Harkness who… 

The old witch stared up at the ceiling of the room, her eyes glazed over, mouth slightly ajar as blood trailed from the corner of her lips. 

Vision shuffled forward, pressing his fingers to her pulse point, and confirmed his suspicions. 

The Watchman retracted his hand and bowed his head, the weight of what this meant crashing down upon him. 

Agatha, a _witch_ , supposedly a Satan worshiper, the embodiment of sin and evil, had _healed_ him and, as a result… killed herself. 

This had not been his intention. If he had known that doing this would take so much energy, would end so disastrously, he wouldn’t have- 

But Vision knew that was an excuse. He knew nothing of how magic functioned, but what had he expected? Ask a half-dead woman just to use her magic to make him better, with no repercussions?

He knew going in that telling Agatha everything honestly had a poor chance of working, yet it looked like Agatha had believed him. He had been frank and embarrassingly desperate, but it had needed to be done. 

Vision also reflected on the fact that he was now most certainly going to Hell. Conspiring and receiving magic healing from a _witch?_ He might as well tie himself to the stake and light a match. 

It would be worth it, though. He had to stop Wanda from destroying Salem, no matter the cost. 

Another realization dawned on him. If Agatha was dead, Wanda would have no reason to return to Salem, and thus he had a better chance of convincing her to leave. 

Vision rose to his feet and looked down at the dead witch grimly. He spoke to her softly, “I swear to you, Lady Harkness, I will not let your gift be in vain. I will ensure that Wanda remains safe, for all our sakes.” 

A knock came from the cell door, “V-Vision? You alright in there?”

Vision walked to the cell door and opened it, causing Sam and Clint to jump back in fear. Vision held up his hands, “relax, guys, I’m alright now.”

“Y-you sure, man?” Sam asked, “you’re not... Possessed, are you?” 

“Sam, when you were six years old, you wet the bed so much that your mother made you sleep on the floor for a month until you finally stopped and learned to piss outside.” Vision deadpanned. 

Sam sputtered, and Clint busted out laughing, “I don’t think a demon would have that kind of information, Sammy.” 

“Shut the hell up, Man! That’s private information, God!” Sam still eyed Vision warily, “what did the pendant want from the witch?” 

Vision turned his gaze to the floor, “I don’t know, when I got in there, the voices stopped. She was half-crazed, rambling on about the devil and the sky or her rabbit…” Vision straightened, “she’s dead.” 

Clint and Sam gaped, “you killed her?!” Clint nearly shouted, shoving the Watchman aside to check inside the cell before scoffing in disgust at finding Agatha’s corpse. 

“I didn’t- I didn’t kill her,” Vision retorted. The lies came less quickly now. 

Sam shot him a bewildered stare, “so what?! She just dropped dead when you were talking?!”

Vision balled his hands into fists, thinking fast, “she was starving. She kept muttering how thirsty and hungry she was.” 

Clint returned from the cell and groaned, “she had been refusing to eat the past couple of days… Maybe she finally went mad.” 

Sam shuddered, “as if she wasn’t already. Serves her right, damned devil worshiper. She’s where she belongs now.” 

Vision could only nod along, unable to bring himself to agree. 

\---

The three men had agreed to announce Agatha’s death to the Minister tomorrow morning since there was no rush delivering that information at two a.m. 

Sam walked Vision back to the infirmary, stopping outside the building, “Look, man, I’m glad you’re feeling better, but that pendant is becoming more and more of a problem.” 

Vision nodded in agreement, looking a the ground as he lied, “Nothing like this has ever happened before. Maybe it just acts out when the witches are around. It did lead me to them three nights ago when they were escaping, so it does have some usefulness.” 

Sam shifted side to side, “still, that was freaky what you did back there, man-“ 

Vision switched tactics, “I will speak with the Minister tomorrow, and together we shall pray on what is to be done about the pendant. I agree that it has become far more trouble than it’s worth.” 

To that, Sam nodded, patting Vision on the shoulder, “try to get some sleep, Vision,” he said before turning and walking back towards the jailhouse. 

Vision waited until Sam was out of sight before taking off into a jog, leaving the infirmary behind and keeping to the shadows of buildings to make sure he would not be seen. 

Once Vision arrived at his cottage, he quietly opened the door and stepped inside. He immediately began changing clothes and put on his Watchman’s uniform and cloak. He then grabbed his knapsack and started shoving clothes, his knife, gunpowder, a spare case of bullets, his water skin, and some dried jerky into the bag before flinging it over his shoulder. Thankfully, someone had returned Visions musket and pistol to his cabin, which he both grabbed and took one last glance around his home. 

Hopefully, this would not be the last time he ever saw this place. 

Vision exited his home and pulled up his hood, waiting in the dark as a patrol of Watchmen passed by a few houses to his right. 

Once all was quiet, Vision swiftly made his way to Salem’s west end before finally reaching the town wall. If Vision had his time right, a guard change would be happening in approximately five minutes, so he waited two minutes and then walked through the guard tower and up the wooden steps before seeing Tony, who stood yawning, barely awake. 

Vision called out, “Hey Tony. You’re free to go now.” 

Tony raised an eyebrow, “already? And jeez, Vision, I thought you weren’t going to be cleared for duty until next week!” 

Vision laughed nervously, “yea me too. It turns out my head healed faster than Natasha anticipated, so she released me.” 

Tony looked him up and down, “what’s with the knapsack?” 

Vision swallowed, “er, I haven’t eaten in a few days, so I brought some apples along with me for a snack.” 

Tony nodded and yawned again, “all right then, back to work, soldier!” Tony laughed and walked past Vision and down the steps of the watchtower until he disappeared. 

Vision let out a sigh of relief. It’s a miracle any of that worked.

_“People are so gullible.”_

Vision huffed, _Tony just hates guard duty. That’s why I picked this end of town, because I knew he’d be itching to leave._

With that, Vision swung his knapsack over his shoulder once more and gripped his musket before taking a running start and jumping off to the town wall, landing with a slight grunt on the hard-packed ground. 

Vision stood from his knees and took one look back at Salem, saddened but determined before he broke off into a sprint into the forest, needing to put as much distance between him and the town as possible before someone found out he was gone. 

Once Vision was significantly deep into the forest, he raised the pendant into his hands and whispered, “take me to her.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take a shot every time someone passes out in this story, Jesus Christ, I need to start limiting myself HAHA. 
> 
> Anyways, another thick chapter for ya'll! I hope it was enjoyable, thanks for reading and until next time my readers!
> 
> -Argo


	11. Second Encounter

In the days following Wanda’s disastrous attempt at a jailbreak, Monica, Jimmy, and Darcy all elected that as penance for her stupid and reckless move, she would get farm duty for the rest of the week. Wanda had begrudgingly accepted her punishment, and the group collectively planned that they would attempt another rescue mission in a weeks time, once Wanda had fully recovered from her injuries. 

In the spring and summer months, tending the small farm behind the Grey Cliff was a group effort during planting season and throughout the early autumn harvest. However, during the early days of December, all that was left to manage on the barren farm was the animals they kept. 

A small barn was built into the back of the mountain, allowing the residents of the Cliff to exit out of their stone passageways and into the wooden structure that housed four pigs, two cows, a goat, and a horse. Outside of the barn lay the acre of fields they kept, which was enough space to grow wheat, cabbage, barley, and corn for the six people and the handful of animals that it needed to feed during the year. 

To the naked eye staring from the outside, there was no farm at all. Those that did not live beneath the Cliff simply saw more dangerous rocky terrain, pine trees, and dead bushes. This was an illusion carefully crafted by Agatha, who had masked the farm to look like an inhabitable, sketchy terrain that gave off a feeling of danger. 

This spell effectively warded off any travelers or witch-hunting parties from snooping around the Cliff, and gave the sorcerers and witches that lived within some much needed privacy when they wished to come outside. 

So, every morning for the past few days, Wanda rose from her bed at six a.m., ate a quick breakfast, put on her work boots, and entered the barn to release the animals from their pens so that she could clean the place. 

It was the messiest job one could imagine, as farm animals made an absurd amount of dung that needed to be removed and scrubbed daily from the floors so that the barn did not stink to high heaven. 

One of the many benefits of having telekinesis was that Wanda didn’t actually have to shovel the dung. Instead, she could just transport it easily through the air and into a wheelbarrow and then dump it out into the lagoon, later to be used as compost. 

This did not stop the work from being absolutely wretched to smell.

After she finished cleaning the stables, Wanda filled the animals’ water troughs and brought the grazing animals back into their pens. 

On her third trip back out of the barn, Wanda stopped for a break, washing her hands and face from the outdoor water spigot and taking a few sips to hydrate. 

It was a quiet but cold winter morning, and, to her surprise, it had started to flurry. 

Wanda hated the cold, far preferring the beautiful summer and autumn months when the world was lush with color and life. Winter was, to put it shortly, dead and dull.

Wrapping her cloak tighter around her body, Wanda sighed and prepared to get back to work. 

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him. 

Gaping, Wanda broke off into a sprint towards the field’s edge, which overlooked the nearby forest and lake. Walking along the water's edge, drawing closer to the Grey Cliff, was the Watchman with the Mindstone. 

Wanda could only watch in horror as he only drew closer, and she just knew that he was walking straight towards the farm. 

How had he known where to go?! It made no sense, Darcy had destroyed her scent trail, yet he had no hounds accompanying him. 

Scowling, Wanda sprinted from the field and out of the barrier, breaking into the forest. Jumping down from boulder to boulder, dodging bushes and trees, she made her way towards the lake, keeping within the tree line to make sure she remained undetected by the man. 

When she finally made it to ground level, the man was only ten yards away from her, and he was... speaking aloud? Wanda paused, listening. 

“...in jail, if I return. Or worse. I don’t know yet. That’s not important right now. We have to find her first.” 

Wanda knelt behind a tree and listened, bewildered. Was this man actually talking to himself??

The man paused for a long moment before continuing. He had now walked past where Wanda sat, hiding, “Of course, that may be the logical thing to do, but… I've lived there all of my life. Salem is the only place I’ve ever called home. I want to return.”

Wanda stood and crept out of the tree line, now standing behind the man, “then perhaps you never should have left.” 

The man spun around, musket raised in alarm, his eyes wide with fear. 

Wanda tilted her head, “really now? I thought you would have learned the first time.” Reaching out a glowing red hand, Wanda summoned the Watchman’s musket into her own grip. 

The man stood dumbfounded as Wanda turned the weapon in her hands, studying it. “Can’t say I’ve ever held a musket before. It’s heavier than I expected.” Wanda moved her fingers along the flint and trigger, curiosity getting the better of her, “how do you load and fire it?” 

The man straightened, visibly swallowing. He didn’t speak for a long moment before finally saying, “place some gunpowder in the priming pan, cover it, load the barrel with gun powder and the bullet, use the ramrod to shove it down, draw back the cock, and pull the trigger.” 

Wanda raised an eyebrow, “all that work for one little bullet to shoot out of this? Seems highly impracticable.” 

The man furrowed his eyebrows, “it’s the most advanced weapon known to man.” 

The witch scoffed, “What use is a weapon that takes ages to load? I’ve seen a Wampanoag warrior shoot ten arrows into a target in mere seconds. That’s far faster than your ‘advanced weaponry’.” 

The man smirked slightly, “perhaps, but can those ten arrows pierce metal armor?” 

Wanda sighed dramatically, looking down at the gun before tossing it to the dirt, “no, I guess not. However,” Wanda lifted her head and looked the man in the eyes, smirking, “your guns have _nothing_ on magic.” 

Red tendrils enveloped the Watchman’s body, who yelped in surprise as his feet were lifted from the ground. Wanda directed him through the air and slammed his back against a nearby tree trunk. 

He struggled to raise his arms, but Wanda kept him in place as she walked closer, before she stood only a foot away from him, looking him up and down, sizing him up. He was far taller than her with a lean but muscular build. She had to raise her head to look him in the eye. Her gaze landed on the Mindstone that rested on his chest, which continued to glow its bright yellow hue. 

“You just couldn’t stay away, could you.” Wanda muttered, before returning her gaze to the man’s eyes, “I’d ask why you’re here, but I think we’ve had enough chit-chat.” 

Raising her hand, Wanda commanded her power forward into the Watchman’s mind, calling forth his memories, desires, needs, and woes. 

She was met with a stone wall. 

Snapping her eyes back open, Wanda looked up at the man, infuriated. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

The man narrowed his eyes, “you… you can read minds, can’t you?” 

Wanda scowled, “up until now, yes, I did have that ability. However, it seems I’ve met an exception to the rule, that being you.” Wanda hesitated, her eyes returning to the pendant, “The Mindstone is likely blocking me out.” 

The man gaped, “you- you know what this is?!” He asked, referring to the pendant.

Wanda rolled her eyes, “of course I know what that is. God, you’re so naïve.” She paused, “tell me, that night we fought in Salem, did you purposefully block out my mind control?” 

The man shifted and hesitated, clearly uncomfortable, “no, I didn’t have to do anything; it just didn’t work.” 

“I see.” Wanda narrowed her eyes. For a man who was being held to a tree against his will, he was certainly being cooperative. She was suddenly curious, “how did you track me?”

The man took a deep breath, “the pendant… it leads me straight to you. I can feel your energy when you’re nearby. It’s hard to describe.” 

Wanda stilled, her eyes widening, “it… leads you to me? Then that night, in Salem… you knew I was there-“

“Because I could sense you.” The man finished for her. 

Wanda took a step back, suddenly uneasy, her was mind reeling. She paused before asking, “what is your name?” 

The man straightened, “my name is Victor Abernathy, but you may call me Vision.” 

Wanda couldn’t suppress a snort of laughter, “Vision? Really?” 

The man lowered his eyes, his stare going off to a faraway place, “Agatha Harkness had a similar reaction.” 

Wanda saw red, “how dare you speak her name?!” She seethed, her scarlet grip tightening on his body. 

Vision inhaled, “Please, Lady Maximoff, I’ve come here with Agatha’s blessing.” 

Wanda flinched, “what did you say?!” 

Vision’s eyes turned sad, “I’m sorry, truly I am. But... Agatha died to help send me here. I was grievously injured after that fight we had, and… I asked her to heal me. She complied, but it took all of the remaining strength she had.” He spoke with such sincerity and looked almost ashamed, as if he blamed himself for her passing. 

Wanda could only stare at Vision in disbelief, then started shaking her head rapidly, “no, no, no, you’re lying.” Her voice grew shaky, “Agatha would _never_ help the likes of you.” 

“In ordinary circumstances, I would agree with you. Agatha had a unique hatred for my town, I know that much. However, her main priority has been protecting you, Wanda Maximoff. She put aside her hate for me so that I could come to help you.”

Tears welled up in Wanda’s eyes, and her voice cracked, “I don’t believe you.” 

Vision bowed his head, “I’m so sorry for your loss. But, I am telling the truth, even if you can’t read my mind.” 

Wanda wanted to scream. 

She did believe him. Wanda had known this would happen. The minute she flew from the town walls that night, Wanda had known it in her bones that she would never see Agatha again.

Agatha was dead because Wanda had failed to save her. Her arrogance, oversight, and stupidity had cost her her mentor’s life. And now, before her stood the man who also claimed partial responsibility for her death, only to declare being sent here _by_ Agatha. 

This was the oddest behavior Wanda had ever seen, especially coming from a Puritan. Since when did God-fearing men grieve over dead witches? Or ask for their help, for that matter?!

Wanda had the overwhelming urge to take all of her anger out on this man, Vision. She wanted to make him suffer. She wanted him to feel every ounce of pain that his wretched people had inflicted upon Agatha. It was only fair, was it not? 

But as the red clouded Wanda’s eyes, she also called her fury back down. She chastised herself. Wasn’t it her reckless emotional choices that got her into this awful situation in the first place? She needed to use her head, no matter how much her wretched heart demanded vengeance. 

Tears ran hot down Wanda’s cheeks, but she refused to look away from Vision, “you were a fool to come here, Vision Abernathy.” 

Before Vision could respond, Wanda spun his body around so that he now faced the tree trunk. He struggled, “what are you doing!?”

Grabbing a rag from her dress pocket, Wanda stood up on her toes and wrapped the fabric around Vision’s eyes so that he was blindfolded. 

She turned him back around and raised her hand in front of his face, and snapped her fingers. He flinched. 

Satisfied, she released him from her powers, grabbed his arm, and began leading him towards the Grey Cliff. “Don’t try anything, or I’ll break your legs and carry you the rest of the way.”

Vision huffed, “Don’t worry, Lady Maximoff, I mean you no harm. Though I assume you’re taking me to your secret witch cottage for torture.” 

Wanda rolled her eyes, “something like that, yea. But the others deserve to know why you’re here as well.” 

Vision almost tripped and sputtered, “others?! Like, other witches?”

Wanda almost laughed at his ignorance but couldn’t bring herself to. The weight of what she had to tell Monica, Jimmy, and Darcy was weighing her down like lead, “yes, I think it’s time you met my coven.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyy the two lovebirds have finally met properly this time! Though Wanda is still a bit hostile as per usual haha
> 
> Thanks as always for reading, and until next time!
> 
> -Argo


	12. The Haunted

_Well, this was a terrible idea_ , Vision thought to himself, now blindfolded, a prisoner, and being lead to who knows where. 

But what had he expected? Obviously, to find Wanda, but then what, expect her to invite him into her home for a cup of tea and a friendly chat? No, he had expected her to be hostile when he did find her, but what he hadn’t anticipated was her sneaking up on _him_. 

He had in no way anticipated that Wanda would happen to find him first, which had caught him completely off guard. He had intentionally wanted to approach her unarmed, to show he didn’t pose a threat, but she had taken care of that all by herself. 

Unable to see where he was going, Vision had to walk slowly and carefully to make sure that he didn’t trip. Wanda complied with his slow pace, though always remained a tight grip around his forearm, leading him forward. 

They seemed to be traveling upward, and Vision felt hard boulders beneath his feet as he climbed carefully. They hiked in silence, and Vision fidgeted awkwardly as apprehension and fear started to set into his bones. 

His mind started to conjure up horrifying images of the place these witches lived. He pictured a dark, rotting cottage filled with nothing but skinned animals, jars filled with eyes and tongues, human bones, possessed objects, skinny black cats, and spell books bound with human skin, detailing unholy scriptures. He imagined the other witches to be gangly, wart-ridden old women with long grey hair and blackened teeth. He saw an enormous cauldron at the center of the room, bubbling and stewing black goo, and from it, some vile demonic monster came crawling. 

Hadn’t Agatha mentioned something about blood sacrifices?! Perhaps Wanda intended to make one out of him. 

Vision’s breath quickened as his heart began racing, and he started to sweat in his nervousness. He felt Wanda loosen her grip ever so slightly, “you alright there, Vision?”

Vision swallowed and nodded a little too quickly, “yes, yep, I’m perfectly fine.” 

He heard Wanda chuckle softly, “I can feel your pulse. I don’t need to read your mind to tell that you are panicking.” 

“It- It’s just the climb, feeling a little tired is all,” Vision cringed. Even he wouldn’t believe his own words. 

“Relax, Vision. I’m not going to hurt you.” Wanda paused, “much.” There was a teasing lit to her voice that made the Watchman gulp. 

They stopped climbing after a few minutes, and Vision shivered as he felt his body pass through... Something. It felt like when one tried to walk underwater, he felt some resistance on his limbs as he walked, the hairs on his arms stood up, then the feeling passed, and he could move normally again. 

Vision stopped moving and hissed, “what in God’s name was that?”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re fine.” She replied, slightly annoyed. 

They continued walking, and Vision smelled… hay? The light dimmed behind his blindfold, and Vision slowed his pace. They must have entered a barn because the sounds of pigs snorting and cows mooing were directly beside him. 

“Are we in a barn?” Vision asked, bewildered. 

“Yes, now be quiet, or ill gag you.” Wanda shushed him. 

Vision grudgingly obeyed, and Wanda continued to lead him forward. The air became significantly warmer, and Vision could hear their steps echoing on the walls as they walked. Had they entered some kind of cave? He could make out tiny bulbs of orange at the corner of his eyes, which likely meant torches. The air also smelled faintly damp. 

After about a minute of walking, the darkness faded away from Vision’s sight once more, and he could tell that they had entered a well-lit space. 

Something heavy dropped to the floor, and a woman’s gasp came from across the room, “Wanda?! What the- who is, why is there a watchman under our mountain?!”

Sighing, Wanda dragged Vision forward, answering as she walked, “This man has-”

The second woman cut Wanda off, her voice drawing closer, “the Mindstone?!” Vision felt a hand grab his pendant, and he jerked away. 

“Uh, excuse me, please don’t.” He interrupted. Vision still couldn’t see and became very uneasy with the idea of some strange witch getting handsy. 

“Darcy, please, could you fetch Monica and Jimmy? We all need to talk.” Wanda said quietly. 

This new witch, Darcy, hesitated for a moment, “alright, fine! But when I get back, I demand some answers!” 

Vision heard the sounds of footsteps running away, echoing as Darcy left the pair alone once more. Wanda sighed, clearly exasperated, before leading Vision forward once more until he bumped into something hard that jutted into his hip, a table? He felt his knapsack leave his shoulder as Wanda took it from him. 

The sound of scraping wood against the floor sounded, and Wanda commanded, “sit down.” She directed him in front of the chair and pushed him down before finally removing his blindfold. 

Vision blinked rapidly, the light of the room temporarily blinding him, before his eyes adjusted and he looked up. His mouth fell open in astonishment. 

Wanda couldn’t help but smirk as Vision took in the sight of the Cliff’s Great Hall, his eyes roaming over the gargantuan bookshelves, enormous floating chandeliers, and beautiful tapestries. Books and scrolls flew over Vision’s head, and he watched, dumbfounded, as they arranged and sorted themselves upon the shelves. 

He swiveled his head downward to gaze at the intricately carved wooden table and chairs. The red mahogany table was detailed with scenes of the forest; deer leaping through the brush, and rivers of fish flowed, the sun was carved directly in the center, and eagles were carved flying circles in the air.

Each of the six chairs seated at the table was uniquely made out of different kinds of wood. Remarkable carvings danced within the timber. Variously colored precious gems sparkled within the chairs’ arms and backs: green, blue, red, violet, white, and orange stones all dazzled in the bright candlelight. 

Vision returned his attention to Wanda, who pulled out the chair inlaid with rubies across from him and sat down upon her throne, crossing one leg over the other and laid her hands on the arms. 

Wanda tilted her head, a condescending look of amusement crossing her face, “so? How do you like my witches cottage?”

Vision gaped like a fish, unable to think of a retort. All that came out of his mouth was, “how…?” 

In all of his years, Vision’s wildest imagination could never have dreamt of a place so… beautiful. He couldn’t describe it any other way.

Half of him was out of his mind in curiosity. The other was in disgust at what this witchcraft had accomplished. All his life, Vision had been told by the Ministers that witches sacrifice babies to stay young, bewitch innocents with strange illnesses, worship the devil, and have unholy powers unnatural to this world. 

Staring at Wanda, it was clear that that last part was correct. 

Yet, how had they _done_ this? How had these people created this elegant monstrosity of a cavern that took Vision’s breath away the longer he stared? This place screamed “magic” of course, but nothing Vision had ever been taught had warned him of something this grand being even possible with witchcraft. 

The Great Hall looked… it looked almost like a cathedral. Like some brilliant architects had been commissioned by the church to create a beautiful house of God to commemorate his love. But-

Vision snapped from his reverie. 

This place was the farthest thing from a church one could get. 

Wanda was staring at him, her hands covering her lips, “I don’t think you’re quite ready to know how we built this place. It just might destroy you.”

Vision narrowed his eyes, “try me, witch.” 

Wanda’s eyes glittered with malice. She opened her mouth, about to reply, when the running of loud feet sounded from a corridor to the right of where Vision sat. 

From the hallway burst two women and a man, all looked to be in their late twenties, and they did not look happy. 

Wanda stood from her chair, “Monica, Jimmy, Darcy, could you please take your seats? We have a lot to discuss.” 

All three stood dumbfounded, just staring at Vision, before the man (Jimmy?), slowly started walking towards the table, before drawing back the chair inlaid with emeralds and sitting down next to Wanda, lacing his fingers together. 

The two women followed suit, with one of the ladies drawing back the seat next to his, she held out her hand, “hi, I’m Darcy Lewis, you might’ve heard me talking earlier but, it’s nice to properly meet you, mister Watchman!” 

Vision slowly shook her hand, still a bit frightened, but mindful of his manners, “It’s a pleasure, Lady Darcy, My name is Victor Abernathy, though you may call me Vision.” 

Darcy beamed, “Nice to meet ya’, Vision!” Darcy plopped down into her seat, which was encrusted with topaz. 

The other woman, Monica, took the seat inlaid with sapphires on the other side of Jimmy, nearest the head of the table. 

This filled every seat except one. Vision wondered briefly who’s chair he sat in, and then glanced at the ebony-colored chair at the head of the table, faceted with amethysts. 

Vision could guess perfectly well which person that chair had been reserved for, and he looked away, ashamed. 

Monica broke the silence first, “why is he here?” She asked icily. 

Vision could feel everyone’s gaze burning into him, and he looked to Wanda who returned his stare, before she finally closed her eyes and leaned forward, placing her arms on the table. 

“I found him walking straight towards… us.” Wanda recovered, “I blindfolded him before bringing him in, he doesn’t know where he is.” 

Monica stiffened, “you’re saying he was tracking us?!”

“Not you,” Vision interrupted, He nodded his head at Wanda, “I was tracking her. Before twenty minutes ago, I had no idea you three even existed.” 

Darcy laughed, “yea well no _duh_. As if we’d ever let you Puritans find us.” 

“Our men found Agatha.” The words slipped unbidden from Vision’s lips, though how he wished desperately to shove them back in. 

All four of the sorcerers bristled in rage, Monica seething, “how convenient of you to bring her up,” Monica rose from her chair slowly, her eyes started to glow _blue_ , “because for every ounce of pain Agatha has endured, I am going to inflict on you tenfold. Then I will march you back to that rats nest you call a town and burn you piece by piece until your wretched, soulless Minister will beg for us to trade-“

“Monica.” 

All eyes turned from the enraged Monica to Wanda, who stared at Vision and then returned her gaze to her fellow sorcerers. “Agatha is dead.” She said quietly, her voice empty.

Monica flinched.

Jimmy gasped slightly.

Darcy gripped the arms of her chair. 

They all stared at Wanda in disbelief as she continued, “Vision has told me that, before he left Salem, Agatha _healed_ his injuries, but… it took all of her remaining strength.” 

Monica whispered, “and you believe him, Wanda? Have you read his thoughts, is he telling the truth?”

Wanda looked down at her hands, “I can’t read his thoughts.”

Now that shocked everyone, who then turned their eyes to Vision once more, their bewilderment only growing. 

“Th-then how can we know he’s telling the truth? Are we actually going to believe that Agatha healed a Puritan? Knowing that it would kill her to exert that much energy?! This is absurd!” Darcy nearly wailed. Vision saw that she was struggling to keep in her tears. 

Jimmy scowled, “Darcy is right, we have no reason to trust his words.” 

“You would if you could allow me to explain why I have come all this way in the first place.” Vision intoned, causing all eyes to swivel back to him once more. 

Monica scoffed, “it’s quite obvious, isn’t it? You came here to kill Wanda. That’s what your Puritans _do_. Murder.” The ice in her words could not be understated, Vision thought he had heard contempt from Wanda, but Monica’s rage nearly surpassed hers. 

“You’re wrong. I did not come here to kill Wanda.” Vision paused, collecting his thoughts, “You all obviously know what this is,” Vision raised his hand and gestured to the pendant around his neck, “but you do not know what it tells me.”

Wanda narrowed her eyes. He could see an underlying rage behind her curious stare, though Vision could not deduce why. 

“The pendant speaks to me. It sometimes tells me people’s thoughts and random pieces of information I often do not ask for. And from what it has told me recently, it is integrating further into my mind, so that one day, I will fully be able to read peoples minds, much like Lady Maximoff, here.” 

The group of witches side-eyed one another uneasily but did not interrupt, “something I will never be able to control, however, are my visions of the future.”

Darcy leaned forward, her eyes wide, “you… can see the future?”

Vision nodded solemnly, “in my dreams. The premonitions come to me rarely, but when they do, they are certain to occur. I know this for a fact unless I interfere.” Vision paused and returned his eyes to Wanda, who now looked very uneasy. 

“I have come here for one reason only. To protect my village. It is my duty and purpose to keep the people of Salem safe, and I will do that at any cost.” Vision hesitated, “the night Agatha was captured and returned to Salem, I dreamt of a witch burning at the stake.” 

No one dared breath, as Vision could only keep staring at Wanda, “originally, I thought it was Agatha Harkness I saw being executed that night. I was mistaken. In my dream, I saw you burn alive, Wanda Maximoff.” 

All of the color drained from Wanda’s face, her voice was low, “and am I to believe that you came all this way to warn me of my imminent doom?” 

Vision did not look away, “no. I tracked you down because that is not the only vision of the future I saw. A few nights later, I dreamt of you again, but this time, it wasn’t you who was burning alive.” Vision could feel his anger rising. His blood pounded in his ears as he stared at the witch, “I saw you destroying my village, spreading a wildfire, burning my people alive in their homes, in their beds. You were ruthless, a monster. I am _haunted_ by you, Wanda Maximoff.”

“So you _have_ come here to kill me, then?” Wanda snarled, her face marred by rage and fear. 

“No. I’m not here to kill you. Agatha and I… made a deal of sorts.” Vision cooled his temper, taking a deep breath, “I was desperate. My Minister would not give me leave to track you down, and I was terrified of you retaliating at any time, so I needed an immediate solution. I was seriously injured after the fight we had, and I knew that my best chance, my only chance of getting out of Salem, was Agatha. I told her about my visions, and she believed me.” 

Vision took a deep breath and looked Wanda in the eye, “she healed me to stop you from returning to Salem. She was terrified that the dream of you being executed would come true, and I was terrified of you destroying my home, so she helped me.”

“Agatha died to send me here to you because she wanted to keep you _safe_ , Wanda. And I want to protect my village. So, I am here to convince you to leave.” 

Monica jumped in, “sorry, leave?”

“It’s in the best interest of both my town and Wanda if she stays away. She could die by fire or burn my people to ash. I don’t want either of those things.”

Wanda scoffed, “isn’t that against your _religion_? Isn’t it death unto all those that practice the art of witchcraft?” 

Vision returned her gaze sadly, “I do not intend to scorn Agatha’s wishes, and as such I will pay for my sins in due time. But all that matters right now is the safety of my town.” 

Wanda straightened, unsure how to respond to his brutal sincerity. 

A deafening silence fell over the room, as the sorcerers contemplated all that Vision had told them, before Wanda finally responded, “I’m not leaving this place.” 

Vision knew it wasn’t going to be that easy and had expected a denial. “Then I’m not leaving either.” 

Jimmy laughed, “as if we would just let you go? You know way too much about us, Vision. We would be fools to just release you back to Salem” 

Vision stared at Jimmy, suddenly very tired, “do you intend to kill me?” 

Another long silence followed and Vision became very afraid of the coming answer, before Wanda spoke, “no. We won’t kill you.” 

Monica spoke up, “you don’t get to make that decision Wanda. Just because Agatha is… gone... does not mean you get to call the shots.” 

Wanda stood from her seat, and looked at Monica, “you’re right. I’m not leadership material, Monica, I think I’ve made that abundantly clear these past few days. But it would be idiotic of us to kill the keeper of an infinity stone, who could so obviously be of use to us.” 

Monica leaned back, stunned, “what do you propose, then? We just keep him as a prisoner?” 

Wanda turned her eyes back to Vision, her gaze staring right into his soul, “of course not. I propose we train him to become one of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOHOO the gangs all here! 
> 
> So I'd like to thank those reading who have been leaving kudos and such kind, encouraging comments on my chapters. You guys are truly fueling my inspiration to write, and I cannot express how much that means to me as a first time writer.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and until next time!
> 
> -Argo


	13. What the Heart Fears Most

“No.” 

This word was spoken aloud at the same time by both Vision and Monica, and almost caused Wanda to break into hysterics right then and there, but she managed to keep a straight face. 

Vision looked completely mortified at her suggestion. As if Wanda had just suggested that he skin a puppy alive. Vision almost looked like he was ready to bolt from his seat, the fear was so apparent in his face. His knuckles had turned white from grasping the arms of the chair, and Wanda could see a vein pulsing in his neck. 

The Watchman opened his mouth, but before he could speak again, Monica had risen from her chair, her eyes ablaze, “Wanda, have you lost your _mind_?!”

Wanda did laugh this time, “maybe. But here’s the situation. In case you haven’t noticed, guys, we are on the brink of war with Salem. Agatha is _dead._ We need all the help we can get.”

Visions stood from his seat now, enraged, “did you not hear everything I just told you? I am here because I want to PROTECT my town! From _you_! If you think you can indoctrinate me into your blasphemous “coven,” you’re mad!” 

Wanda returned Visions glare, “contrary to what your visions of the future may say, or what your Minister may preach. I’m _not_ a monster. We are not evil!” Wanda threw her hand out, gesturing to all of the other sorcerers sitting at the table before pointing the finger at Vision, “you want to protect your home? FINE, well, so do I. So why don’t you help us make peace?” 

That shut Vision up, “make peace?” 

Wanda scoffed, “did you actually think I expected you to turn on your people? Of course not, but you can stay here and learn from us.” 

Wanda paused, resting her palms on the table. “We aren’t savages, Vision. We don’t murder children or worship evil demons. We are intellectuals, scholars, philosophers, artists, and warriors. Do you know what we do under this mountain? Do you know what Agatha taught us? We practice magic to _protect_ this world’s reality. This world is not stable. It is constantly under threat by interdimensional beings that you cannot even fathom to understand because you are so _ignorant_ to how the world works!”

The witch took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “Agatha traveled to the new world on a Puritan ship; she lived within your community for years. She taught us how your people think, and I know how your entire world centers around your faith.” 

Vision’s hands were shaking, “then you know that I would rather die than abandon my God.” 

Wanda sneered, “haven’t you already? Consorting with a witch, allowing Agatha to use her magic, disobeying your Minister to come and find me, being the keeper of the _Mindstone_. You’re practically a sorcerer in training already.”

Vision slammed his palm on the long table, causing everyone to jump, “I have no control over the pendant! I can’t even bloody take it off of my body!”

“Then your God has forsaken you, Vision Abernathy. He has cursed you to forever be an outcast amongst your peers.” 

Vision’s eyes bugged out of his head, and he stammered, “what… how did you-“ 

Wanda chuckled mirthlessly, “I may not be able to read your mind Vision, and I haven’t known you long, but let me tell you something. Fear is kind of my specialty. And you _reek_ of fear.”

Wanda slowly started to walk around the long table, trailing her hand along with the carved wood, “I heard you talking to yourself earlier this morning. You are scared of returning home because of what you have done— disobeying your Minister? Making deals with witches? You Puritans really aren’t the forgiving type. You’d be lucky enough to spend the rest of your days in a cell. Oh, wait! I forgot, everyone in Salem is also terrified. Terrified of _you._ ” 

Wanda was now on his side of the table, slowly approaching him like a tiger stalking a deer, “you’re the freak with the pendant, a keeper of an unholy artifact. You want so _desperately_ to belong, but you can’t, no matter how hard you try. So you have worked tirelessly to make up for something you have no control over. I’m sure you were the best soldier, the best student, and where has that gotten you? Here. 

You have come all this way to stop the future, to stop _me_ from killing the people who have treated you like trash for most of your life!” 

Vision cut in, “that’s not true! The Minister _values_ me-“ 

“Values you as a weapon, perhaps. That’s all you have to offer Hayward. Your Minister is a liar and a hypocrite. ‘A demon may possess that pendant around your neck, but hey, at least it wards off witches magic!’” Wanda cried with a sarcastic laugh. 

“You’re so scared of me, of what I might do. I think you hoped, deep down, that when you returned home and told everyone that you had saved them from the wicked witch in the woods that they would forget their past discretions and _finally_ welcome you with open arms. You’re wrong. The Minister will not forgive you for betraying him. The people will not see you as a hero. Because they are _terrified_ of the things they do not understand, and that makes you a threat.” 

Wanda now stood directly in front of Vision. She could feel his quick breaths, see the sweat drip from his forehead. His blue eyes spoke of his unquestionable terror, “Your precious Salem will burn you at the stake just like they would the rest of us.” 

A deafening silence filled the Great Hall, and all Wanda could do was stare Vision down. “Your people do not deserve a kind soul like you, Vision. But I know that you will stop at nothing to keep them safe. This is why I am inviting you to understand what it is we do. We don’t _have_ to be enemies. We have no desire to kill your people. We never have! We only protect our own from your people’s desire to kill _us_. We want to live in peace, so will you help us?” 

Vision swallowed, his whole body was shaking slightly, and he had to take a moment to compose himself, “I don’t know if anything you’re saying is true. You… You could be lying. Trying to trick me, manipulate me.”

Wanda groaned and closed her eyes, “ _what_ do I have to gain from lying? Your village killed my parents, killed my mentor. I haven’t burned Salem to the ground yet because I’m not a _murderer._ I could have stormed Salem that night and killed every single man, woman, and child, including you, but I didn’t because I knew I could free Agatha without bloodshed. I don’t _want_ to kill innocents! If we wanted to? The four of us could destroy your entire town in a minute. We are not _scared_ of you Puritans. We stay in hiding because we don’t _want_ to kill you. Do you understand now, Vision? Do you finally get how hopelessly outmatched you are? If we were the monsters your Minister, your bible, your _God_ says we are, I would have killed the entire population of Salem long ago. No need for your useless fucking prophecies.” 

Vision stood speechless, utterly at a loss for words. 

Wanda scoffed and walked past him, circling the table once more. “We will not let you leave, Vision. However, if you are willing to learn about our ways, understand us, actually try to appreciate our perspective… You may no longer fear us.” 

Vision sat down slowly, his eyes cast downwards. The group sat in silence for well over a minute, waiting for Vision to respond. Wanda could see the man was in turmoil, his mind was struggling to find a logical and ethical solution, but it just kept mounting upon itself, all that Wanda had told him… It had made him question his beliefs. 

This had been her intention, of course. Wanda just hadn’t been sure whether it would actually work. Puritans were notoriously faithful to their religion, absolute in their devotion to their community and their God, so Wanda didn’t know whether it would be possible to sway one towards actually working with a coven of _witches._

Vision finally looked back up at Wanda; he suddenly looked exhausted, “if I did this… If I learned more of your ways… What do you have to gain? You must know I will not fight against my people.” 

Wanda leaned forward, “I already told you. We have no interest in fighting your people. They just won’t stop attacking us. So, once you are sufficiently trained and we know we can trust you, you can act as a bridge of sorts between our two communities.” 

Vision gaped, and the other three sorcerers at the table collectively started yelling at Wanda. 

“That’s it! You’re officially insane!” Monica shouted, throwing her hands up.

“Wanda, he’s a _Puritan_! There’s no way he would ever betray his religion to work with us!” Jimmy declared.

“You just said that Salem would kill him if he ever went back! And _you’re right!_ ” 

Wanda stood from her chair once more and yelled over them all, “Listen to me! We all know that Salem will never stop hating us so long as they think witches are agents of destruction! I don’t know about you three, but I want to be able to walk freely in the woods without the threat of being hunted like a dog! Agatha, the strongest of us all, was taken by surprise and captured. None of us will truly be safe until we reach a compromise with the Puritans. And our best chance at doing that is through him.” Wanda pointed at Vision, “we will teach him, we will provide him with the weapons necessary to defend himself, and then we will send him back to Salem under a flag of truce. He will speak on our behalf, and then we at least have a _chance_ at peace.” 

The three sorcerers stared at Wanda in stunned silence before Darcy spoke, “I… I would like to go for a walk in the forest for once without the fear of being shot… and... Agatha didn’t deserve to die...”

Wanda felt her heart ache to stare at her friend, who had tears running down her face. 

Jimmy stood up and went to Darcy, immediately pulling her into a hug. 

Monica had tears in her own eyes, but she blinked them away, “Wanda… I want to believe that this plan could work… But I don’t think it will.” 

Wanda leaned towards Monica, “we have to at least try, Monica. We owe it to Agatha. She died to send this man to us, to make sure I would stay safe, that we would ALL stay safe. I can’t lose any more family, and I don’t…” Wanda turned her eyes to Vision, “I don’t want to become what he says I will.” 

Vision was taken aback at that statement. He swallowed then spoke, “any future violence could just be avoided if you all left the area. If you migrated somewhere else, travel out west, you wouldn’t have to worry about being hunted anymore.” 

Wanda laughed, “I believe you Puritans said something similar to the native peoples that lived in these woods as well. You invaded their lands and persecuted them for their beliefs. The Puritans’ conflicts with the Wampanoag, Nipmuck, Pocumtuck, and Narragansett tribes have been devastating. Thousands died in King Phillip’s war. The difference here is that you don’t stand a chance in a war with us. We don’t even want to fight you in the first place. We just want to be left alone.” 

Monica nodded, “we have bigger fish to fry, unfortunately.” 

Vision sat in silence for a long moment, and Wanda could see he was in emotional turmoil, his eyes shifted back and forth rapidly, and his hands fidgeted; he was sweating profusely. He finally lifted his gaze and looked around at each of the four sorcerers before finally settling on Wanda, “I… would like to help form some kind of diplomacy between our communities. I would be willing to learn about your practices, so long as I am not forced to participate directly.” 

Wanda beamed, then turned her head to her companions, “guys? What do you think?”

Darcy looked up, sniffling, then turned her head to Vision, “I mean, I’m a little bit worried about him murdering us all in our sleep.”

Vision jumped a little, “I- I would never!” 

Wanda cut in, “we’ll keep him confined in one of the guest rooms. I’ll enchant the lock so only I can open the door.” 

Darcy nodded in response and said, “well… you know we could always use an extra hand, and if there’s a chance of actually stopping the hunting parties… then yes. We should at least try to teach him.” 

Jimmy and Monica side-eyed one another before Monica spoke, “I still think this is a terrible idea. Whatever we teach him could just be used against us. What if he betrays us?”

Wanda looked Monica in the eye, “then I will kill him myself, and we will have lost nothing.”

Monica held Wanda’s gaze before letting out a long breath, “my vote is still no.”

Wanda nodded, she couldn’t blame Monica for being cautious, “Jimmy?” 

Jimmy was silent for a minute, continuing to hold Darcy’s hand before he looked at Vision and said, “I’d like to think of myself as a good judge of character. And if Vision came all this way simply to try and keep his people safe, that is admirable. He, therefore, he has everything to gain by working with instead of against us.” 

Jimmy looked to Vision, “will you promise to remain under this mountain under an agreement of truce?” 

Vision nodded, “I swear I will not harm any of you, so long as you do not harm me.” 

Convinced, Jimmy stood and looked to Wanda, a grim smile on his face, “very well, then. Wanda, don’t make me regret this.” 

Monica rose from her chair and shook her head, “this is madness…”

“You’re outvoted, Monica,” Wanda said matter of factly, “hopefully, this is the beginning of the end for our conflict with Salem.” 

Monica looked down solemnly, “you will have to inform Pietro of Agatha’s death.”

Wanda flinched. 

Ah, yes, her wayward twin brother needed to know of Agatha’s passing as well. It felt like a dagger was slowly driving through her heart. She could already picture his reaction in her mind, disbelief, sorrow, then unbridled fury.

“I will write to him after we are done here… Once he has returned from Karmar-Taj, we shall hold a memorial for Agatha.” 

Monica nodded, “then are we done here?” Her voice cracked, and Wanda understood. They all needed time to grieve their mentor’s passing, and right now every single one of them just wanted to break down and cry, Wanda most of all. 

“Yes, I think so. We will talk again tomorrow,” Wanda replied softly, her own voice becoming shaky.

Darcy stood, “I should uhm, destroy your and Vision’s scent trail… to make sure that no hounds track you.”

Wanda nodded, “thank you, Darcy…” Reaching her hand up, Wanda pulled a strand of hair from her head and placed it in Darcy’s hand. 

Darcy turned to Vision, “I, uh, do you mind…?”

Vision shifted uncomfortably before complying, pulling a strand of his short blonde hair and giving it to Darcy, who nodded and left the hall speedily. 

The remaining sorcerers dispersed, leaving Vision and Wanda alone together in the Great Hall. 

“Once again, I am so sorry for your loss, Lady Maximoff.” Vision said quietly. 

“Call me Wanda, please. There’s no need for formalities.” She replied, wiping her nose. “And thank you, Vision. For being willing to cooperate with us.” 

“So when do we start, exactly?” Vision asked. 

Wanda shook her head, “not today… too much has happened. We all need some time.” 

“Of course, I understand.” 

“Come, I’ll take you to your chambers.” Wanda grabbed his knapsack, waved him forward, and the pair started walking towards the nearest corridor. 

They entered the stone hallway, with Wanda in front and Vision trailing behind until they climbed a flight of stairs and arrived at a large wooden door. 

She turned the knob and Wanda stepped inside, gesturing for Vision to follow suit. 

It was a modest bedroom, with a large bed, a wooden dresser, wool rug, desk, bookshelf, and plenty of candles. Wanda placed his knapsack on the bed. 

Vision looked around and said, “do you get many visitors here? I was under the impression your… er, coven was isolationist.” 

Wanda chuckled, “not typically no. But, we aren’t the only coven in Massachusetts, so yes occasionally a traveling sorcerer will stop by.” 

Vision turned at that, his eyes bugging, “th-there’s more covens?” 

She nodded, locking her hands behind her back and circling the bedroom, “I guess a first good lesson about us witches is that we are indeed a community. This coven is not isolationist, we operate under a larger network of sanctums throughout the civilized world. The headquarters of which is in Kathmandu, Nepal, named Karmar-Taj. My brother, Pietro, left Grey Cliff two years ago to study there as an apprentice under the Sorcerer Supreme.” 

Vision nodded slowly, “this is… quite a lot for me to take in.” 

Wanda smiled, “I understand. I’ll send over some dinner later today. I’ll come to fetch you tomorrow morning.” 

“Wait!” As Wanda started to leave, Vision grabbed her arm, causing her to whip around prepared to fight; but he only raised his hands in surrender. Vision backed away and said, “do I have to be locked in here all day?” 

Wanda relaxed slightly, “I’ll give you a tour around the mountain tomorrow. But right now, you need to earn our trust before you can be allowed to walk freely in our home.”

Vision released a breath and then nodded, “very well. I await your return then, Wanda.” 

With one last look, Wanda exited the room and closed the door, raising her palm to the keyhole, _"et clausum claudunt"_

Red runes began to glow on the wooden door, enchanting the lock to remain closed unless Wanda herself opened it with her magic. 

Completely drained, Wanda returned to her rooms dragging her feet, a dull ache echoing through her head. Tears streamed down her face as she walked to her desk, sobs silently wracking her body. The weight of Agatha’s death finally settled into her bones and she couldn’t keep in the pain anymore. 

All she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and sleep for a week, she wanted to cry, grieve, and think of nothing else. No Puritans, no Vision, no responsibilities. Alas, first she had to write to Pietro. 

Opening her desk drawer, Wanda pulled from it a quill and parchment made specifically from Nepal, took a deep breath, and began to write. 

“Dear Pietro…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vision this chapter: "well, mark me down as scared, AND horny!" 
> 
> Lmao seriously I couldn't stop thinking of memes writing this chapter, Wanda basically said "you know nothin', Vision Abernathy" 20 times HAHA I'm dead.
> 
> Anyways, it's been a joy reading everyone's speculations and questions about the chapters, you guys are THE BEST! 
> 
> Thanks for reading and until next time!
> 
> -Argo


	14. Breakfast with the Coven

Having been confined to his room for the remainder of the day, Vision immediately took advantage of his situation and crashed on the bed. 

He was absolutely exhausted after his long encounter with the sorcerers of Grey Cliff; both his mind and body was worn out from use. 

Vision fell into a deep slumber, devoid of nightmares or prophecies for once, finally allowing him to gain some true rest. 

Hours later when Vision finally woke, he had no idea how long had passed, since there were no windows to tell the time of day. 

The feather bed was comfortable though and Vision simply sat in the quiet, listening for any sign of noise. The silence of the mountain was such a contrast to his hometown. In Salem, there was always the background noise of people going about their day, dogs barking, birds chirping, the wind blowing. Here, there was nothing. 

Eventually, Vision couldn’t stand the quiet anymore and stood from the bed, stretching his muscles and yawing. Then as he looked down by his door, he saw a plate of food and cup of water waiting for him. 

Kneeling down to the floor, Vision grabbed the plate and drink and took the meal to his desk before sitting down once more. 

It was a modest dinner with a slice of meat pie, three carrots, and a roll of bread. On the plate sat a folded paper note, which Vision opened to read, 

“I opened your door and saw you were still sleeping, so I left this here so that I wouldn’t wake you.” 

-Wanda 

Vision closed the note, genuinely surprised at her kindness. Small gestures of humanity were a far cry from what he had expected of the ruthless witch he foresaw in his dreams. Yet, after everything that had happened yesterday, it seemed that Wanda was trying to extend some kind of comfort. 

In truth, Vision just felt like a prisoner. 

How ironic it was that his townspeople had captured Agatha, and now he in turn was being held prisoner by the witches. 

Vision had done this to himself, however, and he accepted that fact. It was necessary to come here, and though he had failed to persuade Wanda to leave Massachusetts as originally intended, his mission had not been a total failure. 

Wanda now knew of his prophecies, and to his astonishment, she had not only believed him but had countered that she would never _want_ to destroy Salem. 

This was another discrepancy in what Vision had been taught about witches. 

His entire education, it had been ingrained into Vision’s mind that those who wielded magic did so to manipulate and prey on the weak. It was said that the devil gave witches strange power to destroy crops and spread plagues; that they murder babies in an unholy ritual and use their youth to remain forever young. 

He had been taught that the hunting and burning of witches was necessary and just, as magic users were a scourge upon the earth that needed to be cleansed in the name of the Lord. 

This evil described to him was not what he had seen from the sorcerers of Grey Cliff thus far. 

Their collective grief over Agatha’s passing, Darcy’s politeness, Jimmy’s compassion, Monica’s determination to keep them all safe. And of course Wanda. 

Wanda had utterly turned his entire worldview on its head. The complete sincerity in which she spoke about her desire to find a peaceful solution to their conflict could not be ignored, no matter how much Vision wanted to believe they were lies. 

Still, Vision asked aloud, “was Wanda being completely truthful yesterday? About her coven simply wanting to live in peace?” 

The pendant did not answer. But the truth was already there in Vision’s mind, just as he had already known. 

Vision sighed deeply. A conflict raged within his mind: if Wanda had been telling the truth, and his beliefs had been so wrong about witches, what else had been taught to him that were lies? 

What she had said about him being an outcast amongst the townspeople had caught him completely off guard, because it was _true._ Wanda said she could not see into his head, which despite this fact, still made her the most perceptive person he had ever met. 

Vision shivered, questioning himself. Had he actually come to this place out of selfish purposes? Had he deluded himself into thinking that he was saving lives by coming here when in reality, he only wanted to be rewarded for bravery? 

Frustrated, Vision no longer felt hungry and returned to his bed, kneeling onto the carpeted floor and clasping his hands together in prayer. 

Closing his eyes, Vision whispered, “O’ father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, I confess to you my sins: lying, disobedience, selfishness, consorting with witches, attempting to use unholy magic….”

Vision paused, a thought occurred to him. If Wanda had been entirely truthful, then her and the other witches' power did not come from making deals with the devil. 

This aligned with what his interrogation with Agatha had revealed as well: she did not worship Satan.

So then… How did witches conjure magic? 

His head spinning, Vision sighed, _I guess that’s a good question for my first lesson tomorrow._

Standing, Vision turned and walked around his room, studying what little furniture had been provided to him. The bookshelf, desk, and bed frame all looked to be made from the same kind of dark wood. They were all carved with exquisite details of trees with long extending branches, floating leaves, and overgrown roots as if a master craftsman had spent hours on each piece. Vision wondered briefly how the witches of Grey Cliff got such fine pieces of furniture out in the wilderness. 

Vision walked to the bookshelf and studied his small selection of available texts. Trailing his fingers along the spines, he saw that more than half of the books weren’t even written in English. Having grown up in Salem all of his life, Vision had only ever read one language and couldn’t even recognize the kind of scripts the books detailed. 

However, one book did stand out to him, and he grabbed it readily, relieved to find that he recognized the author’s name. Dusting off the cover, Vision opened the copy of William Shakespeare’s _Romeo and Juliet_ and took it to his desk. 

Hoping to relax a little, Vision took a bite of his bread roll, leaned back into his chair, and began to read. 

\---

At the sound of his bedroom door opening early the following morning, Vision jolted awake, leaning up from his desk with a groan. 

“Time to get up, Vision. It’s 8 a.m.” Wanda’s voice was heard behind him.

Vision shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his brain. Looking down at the book in his lap, he remembered. He had fallen asleep reading, hunched over on his desk.

His back ached something fierce as Vison stood to his feet and stretched, trying to loosen his stiffened bones. He yawned into his hand before turning and addressing the witch leaning in his doorway, “I don’t suppose you would have any tea lying around?” 

Wanda huffed, “Well, everyone’s already at breakfast, so if you don’t hurry up, it’s all going to be gone by the time you get there.” 

“Breakfast?” Vision didn’t know why the idea of a bunch of sorcerers eating breakfast together sounded so strange to him. It seemed too out of place, too mundane. He smiled, “right, do you mind giving me a moment to change clothes?”

Wanda nodded and closed the door behind her, leaving Vision to throw off his Watchman’s uniform and change into new pants and a tunic. After pulling on his boots, Vision rummaged through his bag and hesitated before taking out his hunting knife and stashing it in his belt.

Just as a precaution. 

Opening his bedroom door, Vision stepped out and saw Wanda leaning against the hallway, arms crossed. She was wearing a dark blue dress with a fitted black bodice, and draped around her shoulders was a scarlet-colored cloak. Her dark hair lay on her right shoulder in a simple braid, and her light green eyes stared at him inquisitively, “what is it?”

Vision shook his head in embarrassment; he had been staring. “It’s just, uhm. You seem to wear a lot of red.” 

Wanda let out a chuckle, “seriously? Haven’t you noticed? It’s my favorite color.” She stood up straight and jerked her head, “come on, let’s get to the Hall.” 

Vision followed Wanda as he led them down the stone passages to the Great Hall once more. As the pair arrived, Vision was surprised to find that despite all of the sorcerers being in attendance, the room was hushed; the only sounds to be heard were utensils clattering and food being eaten. 

Wanda stepped forward and took her seat at the table, grabbing the tea kettle and pouring a cup for herself, and Vision followed suit, sitting in the quartz encrusted chair he did yesterday. 

Looking around, it was apparent as to why everyone was so silent. 

Darcy had dark circles beneath her eyes and was sniffling every so often, obviously keeping tears back.

Jimmy and Monica didn’t look much better, but at least they were eating the selection of dried fruits, eggs, and porridge laid out on the table. Darcy’s plate was empty, and she had a faraway look in her eye. 

Wanda leaned across the table, placing her hand on Darcy’s, “hey… you should really try to eat something.” 

“No, thank you…” Darcy replied quietly. 

Wanda pushed a plumb towards her, “at least try a bite. You love plumbs!” 

Darcy shook her head and sank lower into her seat. Wanda withdrew her hand with a sigh. 

Monica spoke up after a long moment of silence, “Wanda, have you written to Pietro?” 

The young witch looked up, “I did last night, no response yet. He could be away from the temple.” 

Vision spoke up, “pardon me, but how could your brother have possibly received your letter if he is in... did you say Nepal? That’s across the world.” 

All the sorcerers looked up and gave Vision a look of exhaustion. He awkwardly shrank back into his seat, knowing he should have just stayed quiet. 

Darcy spoke quietly, “we sorcerers do not need to wait months for letters of correspondence to be transported across seas. That is highly inefficient and would take far too long. Instead, we enchant quills and paper cut from the same sheet so that they may record extra copies of our messages anywhere in the world.”

Vision raised an eyebrow, “extra copies… I don’t-”

Monica cut in, “look around you Vision, what do you see?” 

Vision did as commanded and looked around at the enormous library of ever-changing books, rearranging and making room for the stream of new texts that seemed to fly out of nowhere. 

Wait, not out of nowhere. 

Looking at the top of the cavern to the right, beneath the ceiling, was a five-foot-tall opening in the carved mountain wall. Out of the hole occasionally flew a scroll or book, or sometimes one book came from out of the library and levitated into the opening, disappearing from view. 

Vision stuttered, “why do the books and scrolls come and go from the shelves and into that passage?”

Monica continued, “That passage leads to the Writers Room. I’m sure Wanda will take you there later today. Essentially, it is an ever-evolving space of knowledge. As scholars of the mystic arts across the world write their findings, theories, and discoveries into their texts, we also receive a copy of their work. So long as we have a book cut from the same enchanted paper as the one being written on by the author, the quills correspondent to that book will write down whatever they do.” 

Visions head was spinning, “...So if Wanda has an empty notebook cut from the same paper that her brother does in Nepal…”

“Then I can send him messages through that notebook.” Wanda finished for Vision, “and he can write back.” 

Darcy jumped in, “that is only for _personal_ writing, though. You can NEVER write in one of the books we have here in the library. Otherwise, those notes will show up on every single copy in the entire world!” 

Vision could only gape, “that’s incredible… You can write to anyone in the world, you can be thousands of miles away, and they can immediately receive your message.” 

“That is assuming they have their notebook with them,” Wanda said, rolling her eyes, “My brother tends to forget things. He would lose his head if it weren’t attached to his body.” 

Vision nodded, still in amazement at the practical uses such a tool could have. 

Across the table, Wanda smiled, “see, Vision? We sorcerers aren’t all that bad.” 

This snapped Vision back to his reality, and he swallowed, “I had no idea magic could be used in such a useful manner.” 

Jimmy laughed, “magic is _meant_ to be used like this. It is a tool to be revered and studied, and it can aid humanity in countless ways. The mystic arts bring our community closer together unlike anything else in the world.” 

Vision narrowed his eyes, “if your “community” is so advanced, why does the modern world know nothing of your existence? If you witches have so much power, why do you stay in hiding? Logically, with your powers, you could conquer entire nations. Wanda said yesterday that the four of you could kill three hundred people easily, and yet you state there are hundreds of your kind, if not thousands. So why do you hide beneath this mountain?”

Silence fell over the long table as the four sorcerers looked at Vision with astonishment. 

Wanda suddenly started to laugh hysterically, and Vision looked at her with abject horror because she sounded almost _exactly_ like Agatha. 

“Ahhh... How many times am I going to have to repeat the same lesson, Vision? We don’t want power! We aren’t greedy conquerors driven by a lust for glory. We don’t want gold or land. We don’t want to kill people. We are sorcerers! We _protect_ humanity.” 

“So you’re saying all of you operate under purely selfless reasons? Like monks?” Vision countered, unconvinced. 

“What we _want_ is to protect this world’s reality from those that wish to harm it.” Monica stepped in. “The masters of the mystic arts have been fighting the same war for thousands of years, Vision. That war is not against Puritans.” 

“Though it should be said, not every witch follows the Sorcerer Supreme.” Jimmy spoke up, “not everyone who practices magic does it for selfless reasons.”

Darcy looked to Vision, “in fact, most go to Karmar-Taj _for_ selfish reasons. To be healed, to become stronger, to gain power. The Ancient One turns away those she sees magic will only corrupt, yet helps and teaches those she knows can be healed and nurtured into something greater than they were. Even still, some sorcerers still go down the dark path and cause problems for all of us.” 

Vision raised an eyebrow, “so you’re telling me not all witches can be trusted? Not all are as selfless and kind as you lot?” 

Wanda shifted uncomfortably, “while it is rare, a sorcerer or coven may defect from the Sorcerer Supreme’s order. This has not happened in decades, but when it does, there is death on all sides.” 

“Otherwise… you’re saying that witches want nothing to do with the Puritans or worshipers of God? They mean us no harm?”

Wanda scoffed, “you Puritans think the world revolves around you, that you are the chosen ones who are destined for paradise if you follow His word to the letter. That devils and witches are trying to stray you from His righteous path, that we want to corrupt you. Well, here’s the truth, Vision.” She leaned forward and whispered, “you people are not worth our time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vision still needs time to warm up to the whole "magic" situation. 
> 
> I wanted to write more for this chapter but the pacing worked better if I split it into two, so I hope this was juicy enough for everyone! 
> 
> Anyways thank you as always for reading, and until next time!
> 
> -Argo


	15. A Walk Through the Stone Halls

The group of sorcerers quickly dispersed after breakfast had been finished, leaving Wanda, Darcy, and Vision to walk along the enormous bookshelves of the Great Hall. 

Darcy was leading the way, taking them up the spiral flights of stairs onto the second level, where the library nearly touched the ceiling. 

“So what do all of you do during your daily lives? When you’re not ‘protecting Earth’s reality’ or whatever you called it?” Vision inquired, looking to Wanda. 

The witch smirked, “we haven’t been summoned to protect a Sanctum in over a year, so I guess that is a reasonable question.” Wanda looked to Darcy, “wanna take this one?” 

Darcy perked up slightly, “well, we all have jobs assigned to us to maintain the mountain’s various rooms. My job, for instance, is being the coven Librarian! Since the bookshelves are ever rearranging and expanding, I keep tabs on what information has been updated or removed. I keep a catalog of the different sections of the library for you all to use.” 

Vision nodded, “and uh, while reading is obviously a great pastime, what use do the four of you have for such an expansive amount of knowledge?” 

Wanda piped up, “we are always learning new things about the world, Vision. As sorcerers, it is ingrained in us at a young age to never stop learning. Especially in the Mystic Arts, magic is not a static thing. New spells, runes, and relics are constantly being discovered or created. This place is a hub of expanding information.” 

_“Similar to me.”_ The pendant finally spoke, drawing Vision’s attention away from Wanda. 

Vision ignored the pendant for now as Darcy continued speaking, “you should also know that it takes _years_ of training to be deemed a Master of the Mystic Arts. And all of us here, we have been studying magic for over a decade.” 

That made Vision gape, “over a decade?! How long does it usually take?” 

Darcy shrugged, “it depends, in order to become a Master you have to successfully pass all of the Ancient One’s trials. That’s no easy feat, and the amount of study and practice required to accomplish the tests cannot be understated. But I’d say around fifteen to twenty years is the average time span for a Sorcerer to advance. For some, it takes longer.” 

Wanda smirked, “or shorter.” 

Vision raised an eyebrow, “are any of you Masters?” 

Wanda shook her head, “no, not yet. We have all passed some of the trials, but not all. Monica is close though. She has been studying here longer than any of us.” 

Vision nodded, intrigued. Wanda spoke up, “thanks for the debrief, Darcy. I think I’ll take Vision to the classroom now.” 

Darcy nodded and smiled slightly, “see you guys later!”

Wanda led Vision down a stone pathway on the second level, which almost immediately opened up to a much smaller room. 

Five desks sat in a crescent at the center of the room, facing a blackboard and another, longer desk. It looked very similar to the classroom Vision studied in as a boy, so this small familiarity made him feel a bit more at ease with his surroundings. 

On the far left wall was, to Vision’s surprise, a long window that spanned from nearly one end of the classroom to the other that casted the room in soft blue light. Vision immediately went to the window and stared in amazement at the view, the frozen lake directly below the Cliff, and the surrounding forest, which he could see for miles. 

“Can you see the window from the outside?” Vision inquired, certain that this would give away the sorcerer’s hideout. 

Wanda came up beside him, arms crossed, and shook her head, “an illusion spell hides the window. We can see out, but anyone looking up at the cliff face will see only rocks.” 

Vision nodded slowly. Though the whole concept of magic was still off-putting to Vision, he couldn’t help but be impressed by all these impossible things now being right in front of him. The religious part of his brain was screaming about how unnatural all of this was, but again, the curious part of him was thirsting for more. 

“This is where Agatha would teach us more mundane topics of study. History, arithmetic, writing, languages, etc.” 

“What languages do you speak other than English? I couldn’t read half of the texts that are in my room’s bookshelf.” Vision asked, walking to the desks. 

Wanda shrugged, “Agatha taught us Latin, Sanskrit, Spanish, some French. I speak Sokovian, which is my mother tongue.” 

“I’ve never even heard of a nation called Sokovia…” Vision said absentmindedly, thinking back to his geography lessons. 

Wanda smiled, “I would be surprised if you had. It is a very poor country thousands of miles away in Europe. My parents left there soon after my brother and I were born.” 

Before Vision could ask more, Wanda had turned away and started walking out of the room, causing Vision to jog in order to catch up. 

They walked along the curved perimeter of the second level until they reached a second passageway. Exiting the Hall, the pair entered a room covered in carpets, pillows, and unlit candles.

The light scent of lavender incense burning caught Vision’s attention and he asked, “what is this room for?”

Wanda walked to the center of the room and breathed deep, “this is our Meditation Chamber. I come here weekly to refocus myself and train my mind, or just when I’m feeling stressed.” 

Wanda walked past Vision and out into the Great Hall once more, leading them around the edge to a larger double door room. Pausing, the witch studied the doors for a moment and said, “perhaps it would be better if you stayed out here for a second.”

Vision shifted on his feet, “what’s in there?” 

“Agatha’s personal study.” Wanda said softly, “I have to go in and grab something.” 

Without another word, Wanda pulled open one of the doors and stepped inside, leaving Vision to wait alone in the Hall. 

Two minutes later, Wanda reappeared with a small wooden box in hand and closed the door behind her with a slam that echoed. 

Vision looked down at her prize curiously, “what’s in the box?”

Wanda’s eyes twinkled with mischief, “wouldn’t you like to know.” She held the box behind her back and started walking away, leading him from the double doors. 

Vision felt his mouth quirk, “now that’s not fair!” He laughed, jogging to catch up with her. 

“You’ll see tonight once everyone gathers again,” Wanda looked at the Watchman over her shoulder, “I can’t open it by myself.” 

The duo circled the perimeter until they came to a fourth passageway and Wanda pointed, “this hallway is where all of the bedrooms are located, so if you need to, you can just walk right from your room and into the second level if need be.” 

They continued forward to the library staircase once more and descended, walking to the opposite end of the Great Hall, and into a large stone passageway lit with torches. They walked for half a minute then went right past a large wooden door and Vision stopped, “wait! What’s through there?” 

Wanda halted and turned, “that door leads to our farm. I won’t be showing that to you today because that could give away our position.” 

Vision glowered, “right, I forgot for a minute I’m just a prisoner.” 

Wanda rolled her eyes, “trust is earned, Vision. For all I know, you could try and bolt as soon as I let you outside. Not that you would get very far, but still. Besides, all that’s in there are just a bunch of smelly animals.” 

Vision grunted, and they continued forward until reaching a split hallway, where one passage turned right, and one turned left. Wanda took them down the left path, which immediately opened up into another enormous, open space. 

The center of the cavern was empty, and the floor was matted with wooden planks instead of the usual stone. Along the right side of the room were dozens of kinds of weapons mounted on the wall: swords, spears, knives, staffs, longbows, crossbows, shields, and armor. Human-sized dummies with targets printed on their chests stretched along the left wall, in addition to shelves containing what Vision assumed were medical supplies and towels. Mirrors displayed Wanda and Vision’s reflections in front of them at the north end of the room. 

Monica was already there, seeming to be moving dummies to the center of the room, and looked up at the pair as they approached. 

The Watchman was surprised to find that instead of a dress, Monica had changed into wearing pants and a set of black robes, with a brown leather belt tied around her waist. She was barefoot. 

Vision thought briefly about how inappropriate this attire was for a lady to be wearing, but squashed that thought on remembering that he was not in Salem anymore. 

Monica crossed her arms, “welcome to the Training Hall, Vision.” 

He looked around in fascination, “this is where you practice… martial arts?”

Wanda nodded, “correct. We study Judo and Kung Fu, in addition to multiple different types of weaponry, though we all have our favorites.”

Vision walked to the weapons, “this is quite the collection… though why have all of these weapons when you can so obviously defend yourselves with magic?”

Monica laughed, “physical discipline is paramount, especially when one is training to become a sorcerer. Your mind and body must be in synch and controlled. Practicing martial arts helps us accomplish this and strengthens our connection to the Mystic Arts. Weapons can also be imbued with magic that is otherwise too strenuous on the body. These objects are called Relics.” 

Vision perked up, “so… similar to my pendant?” He lifted the glowing stone from his chest, drawing Monica’s attention. She hesitated. 

“Your pendant… is an Infinity Stone. I wouldn’t classify it as a Relic.” Monica replied slowly. 

Wanda narrowed her eyes, “it is something unique, and it is not of this world. I’m not even sure if I would classify it as magic.” 

“It told me once ‘I am your magic’ when I started to have more open conversations with it. The pendant gives me the ability to see the future and read people’s thoughts. If that’s not magic I don’t know what is.” Vision countered. 

Monica and Wanda exchanged a knowing look until Wanda replied, “it’s a living thing. Though it needs you as a host. It holds tremendous power, Vision. Perhaps here is where you will allow us to help you learn to control your abilities.” 

Vision blanched, “you… would help me to control the power?”

“Of course. Even though you are resistant to learning sorcery, that doesn’t change the fact that you do have supernatural abilities beyond your control, Vision.” Wanda stepped closer to Vision, her eyes staring at him earnestly, “I know what it’s like to have noises in your head, thoughts that aren’t your own. It’s terrifying and uncomfortable. I can help you learn to harness the stone’s power.” 

Vision’s heartbeat quickened as he stared into her green eyes. Those same eyes that had glowed scarlet, had haunted him in his dreams, threatened his life, and burned everything to ash... Now looked so beautiful. 

He took a step back and swallowed, “I will consider it… thank you.” 

Wanda studied him for a moment before blinking and turning to Monica, “maybe Vision can spend a day with you this week, Monica. You can take him through some fundamentals of hand-to-hand combat.” 

Monica scoffed, “seriously? I thought babysitting the Puritan was going to be your job, Wanda. This was your idea.” 

“We never agreed that it was just going to be _my_ job. I can’t watch him every single second of the day. Besides, we all know you’re the best martial artist in the coven, and this could teach Vision a few things about our philosophy that don’t strictly have to do with magic.” Wanda countered, crossing her arms.

Vision contemplated this for a second, then agreed, “I think this is a good compromise. I would enjoy learning a thing or two about martial arts.”

Monica rolled her eyes and sighed, “alright, fine. I guess I could always use an extra practice dummy, anyways.” She smirked slightly, and Vision huffed, indignant. He was now more than ever determined to prove he wasn’t _totally_ incapable of defending himself. 

Wanda shoved Monica playfully and said, “play nice!” Before waving Vision over and continuing their walk through the gym towards a side door leading to another room. 

Exiting the passage, the pair entered what appeared to almost look like a museum. Glass cases housed various objects that looked to be from other countries that Vision couldn’t name. Swords, masks, staffs, gloves, armor, and more sat in the display as Vision walked past them, “more weapons?” He asked, curious. 

“This is our Relic Room. We keep all of our magically imbued items in this space for safekeeping. Some are volatile when not monitored, so the cases keep them contained.” Wanda replied, walking around the stands until she stopped before a display at the center of the room. 

Vision paused and walked to where she stood, and they both stared down at the display case. 

Inside the glass, rested a maroon, curved headpiece with twin horns that rose from the sides. It looked almost to be made of stone, and was elegantly engraved to show spirals of bright red energy that flowed through the carvings like blood. 

Vision shifted his eyes to Wanda, who stared down at the headpiece, transfixed. 

“This is the Crown of the Scarlet Witch,” Wanda whispered softly. 

“Does that mean…” Vision trailed off, unsure. “Is it yours?” 

Wanda closed her eyes and inhaled, “yes, and no.” She placed her hand on the glass, and the bright glowing veins of the Crown seems to shine brighter at her closeness. “Technically, it does belong to me. I’ve only ever worn it once, though.” 

Vision swallowed, “what does it do?”

Wanda tore her gaze from the Crown and addressed Vision, “it apparently enhances my powers tenfold. It’s a Relic that can only be worn by the Scarlet Witch… it kills all those it rejects. I haven’t trained with it yet, it’s too risky.”

Vision suddenly felt the need to run as far and fast away from this place as he could, but his feet remanded glued to the floor. This woman, Wanda Maximoff, was already wielding an insane amount of power. She could control people, move things with her mind, read thoughts, how could she possibly become _stronger_?!

“The Scarlet Witch… it’s a title, right? Why does that refer to you, specifically? Unless that’s just because of the color of your magic?” Vision asked, too intrigued. 

Wanda shifted awkwardly, “I… I have the ability to wield a kind of magic no one else can. Something so dangerous, so rare, before Agatha found me, people just chalked it up as a myth. Not even the Sorcerer Supreme had been alive when the last Scarlet Witch roamed the earth. The only proof of her existence lays before us, and the legends that surround her.” 

Vision’s eyes bugged, “so what are you saying? You’re a reincarnation of some mythical witch from thousands of years ago?”

Wanda cringed, “the truth is… I don’t know. Reincarnation is a touchy subject amongst sorcerers, I highly doubt it’s true.” Wanda stole another glance at the Crown before gesturing, “let’s keep going.” 

The duo left the relic room and back out into the hallway, before turning right this time and walking forward into a smaller yet wider space from which banging could be heard. This room was filled to the brim with wood logs, planks, saws, hammers, and dozens of boxes of nails. Buckets of paint lined the shelves, and random paper was scattered all over the floor. Paint brushes, carving knives, and ink quills were scattered at random on top of desks and easels. 

Near the center of the room, Jimmy sat on a table with a hammer in hand, banging away at what appeared to be a canoe. As they drew closer, Vision saw that he seemed to be trying to attach seats inside the boat. 

“Hey, Jimmy!” Wanda spoke up over the banging, causing him to look up from his work with a smile. 

“Hey Wanda, Vision. How’s the tour going?” Jimmy hopped off of the table and set down his hammer to greet them. 

“You’re actually our last stop,” Wanda replied, “this is our Workshop, Vision. Jimmy spends most of his days in here making new beautiful furniture for the mountain or making repair if anything breaks.” 

Vision gaped, “so it was you who designed all of the furniture in my room?” 

Jimmy smiled, “it was either me or Agatha! We are… I mean, I’m the most artistic of the group.” His smile died a little bit on remembering his fallen mentor.

Vision looked around, “so the chairs at the long table, did you carve those as well?”

Wanda smiled, “actually, Agatha insisted upon us learning to carve at a young age, even though some of us hated it. She said that everyone needed a creative hobby to keep them inspired, so she assigned us to craft our own chairs to be seated at the long table as a sign of our individuality.” 

Vision was stunned, “they’re all gorgeous! You guys are master craftsmen!” 

Jimmy chuckled, “I may have helped pitch in on some parts. Pietro certainly needed the most help, but the specific wood and carving designs are all unique to the person.”

Wanda shrugged, “I haven’t touched a carving knife in five years, can’t say I miss it much.” 

Jimmy smiled, “that’s just fine Wanda, we all know you’re a much better cook.”

She punched Jimmy in the arm and he laughed, “take it as a compliment! We would definitely starve without you!” 

Wanda huffed, tilting her head, “don’t you forget it.” 

“What about you Vision, do you like to draw or carve at all?” Jimmy asked, looking genuinely curious.

Vision smiled shyly, “afraid not. I’ve never been a very creative person, I mostly spend my free time reading. Though I do occasionally enjoy writing.” 

Jimmy chuckled, “you and Darcy will get along just fine, a bunch of book worms you lot are.” 

Wanda and Vision left the Workshop soon after, and Vision asked, “is that everywhere?” 

The witch stretched her arms above her head, “everywhere important, I think.” She laughed, “oh well I guess you should know where the lavatories are should you need that.” Wanda pointed out the bathroom on the bottom floor, which was also right next to the kitchen, and then told Vision that the bathroom on the second level was at the end of the hall where the bedrooms were. 

“Good, I think I may want to take a bath tonight,” Vision melted a little at the thought of relaxing in a pool of hot water when he could just bathe and not think about magic or sorcerers for a little while. 

Wanda shrugged, “that’s fine, let me know, and I’ll have hot water prepared for you.” 

They arrived back in the Great Hall, and Darcy greeted them. 

Later that night, as Vision sat at the long table in Pietro’s chair, he watched the group of witches banter and talk. Though it was clear they were all still feeling the weight of Agatha’s death, they leaned upon one another, and were provided comfort in their shared grief. 

Now that he had seen the entirety of Grey Cliff, and had gotten to meet each of its sorcerers individually, an epiphany dawned on Vision. 

These people were a family. They shared a home, a purpose, a community, and they loved one another. 

Strangely, that only made Vision sink deeper into despair; because while these people wielded immense strength and unnatural power, was he any different? They were bonded over their shared abilities to do the impossible, yet his town had rejected him for his strange power his entire life. 

He suddenly felt like an outsider on two fronts: he was too weird to be accepted in Salem, and now too normal to be accepted at Grey Cliff. 

_“Perhaps that will change.”_ His mind and the pendant spoke as one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW, fat chapter, big revelations, lots of info!
> 
> I'd like to thank everyone for their support on the last several chapters, you guys are awesome!!
> 
> Thank you as always for reading, and until next time!
> 
> -Argo


	16. Rings and Revelations

After the group finished up dinner and were sitting quietly, Wanda rose from her chair and spoke, “guys, I have to tell you something.”

All eyes turned to the young witch, and Darcy rose an eyebrow, “well jeez could you be any more ominous?”

Wanda sighed, her shoulders drooping, “I went into Agatha’s study today… and I got this.” Wanda pulled the wooden box from her dress pocket and laid it on the table, “I think we should open it.” She said quietly. 

Monica, Darcy, and Jimmy eyed Wanda warily before Monica spoke, “I cannot believe Agatha didn’t take it with her. The absolute _foolishness._ ” 

Jimmy leaned back into his chair, “She probably didn’t think she would need it.”

Monica scoffed, “and to keep it in a locked box?! Did she think we were gonna steal it and go on a vacation? I don’t think I ever truly understood her logic.” 

Across the table, Vision jumped in, “pardon, but, what exactly are all of you talking about?” 

Wanda shot him a look then placed the box in the center of the table, “together?” she asked, and they all nodded in response. 

The four sorcerers all rose to their feet, raised their hands, and spoke as one, _“Basem datorum et liberum”_

The wooden box started shaking rapidly, purple runes started to glow then turned white. In a flash of bright light, the box exploded and everyone ducked and covered their faces as splinters flew all over the table. The clanging of metal on stone was heard a few feet away. 

Wanda looked up and around, but Darcy spotted it first, running forward and grabbing it from the ground, “aha!”

In Darcy’s hand lay Agatha’s Sling Ring, the only one that their coven had. Darcy carried the Ring back to the table and placed it in front of them, “It never should have left her hand.” Darcy said quietly. 

Vision spoke up once more, “what is that?” He leaned over the table, eyes wide in curiosity. Wanda couldn’t help but smile, Vision truly had a curious mind, and Wanda had noticed how he was slowly but surely forgetting his original fear of magic. His thirst for knowledge was taking precedent over his devotion to his faith. 

Jimmy chimed in, picking up the Ring, “this is a Sling Ring. It’s a magical object all sorcerers who train at Karmar-Taj receive. Essentially, it allows you to cast portals anywhere with only you thinking about your destination. You open the portal, walk through, and you could be halfway across the world if you wish.” 

Vision gaped, “that’s… impossible.”

All four sorcerers busted out laughing at that, they just couldn’t help it. Wanda had tears in her eyes by the time she finally composed herself, “oh come on, Vision! I thought you had caught on by now,” Wanda leaned across the table, “nothing’s impossible!” 

“Especially with magic,” Darcy huffed, taking the Sling Ring from Jimmy. “If she hadn’t left this here, she never would’ve been captured,” Darcy remarked sadly. 

Wanda huffed, “what did she always say? Making portals is cheating? God, she really was mad.” 

Monica rolled her eyes, “that woman walked the Earth for hundreds of years, when she finally got her hands on a Sling Ring she discarded it as taking all the fun out of traveling. That hubris costed her her life,” Monica sat back down and leaned her cheek against her fist, staring at the Ring somberly. 

Monica’s statement casted the room into a long, depressing silence until Wanda took a deep breath, “Monica, I think you should have the Ring.” 

This caused everyone to look up once more as Wanda continued, “you were Agatha’s first pupil. You are the closest to becoming a Master, and most of all, you deserve to lead this coven. We all know how to use the Ring, but you deserve to wear it the most.” 

It was a known fact that Monica was the most responsible, practical, and natural leader out of all of Agatha’s students. She had the sensibility and wisdom of a woman twice her age and kept calm under pressure. 

Monica was rational and made her choices carefully with logic. 

Wanda couldn’t always say the same for herself. 

Darcy leaned forward and rested her hand on Monica’s, “Wanda is right, out of everyone here, you deserve the Ring and the right to lead us the most.” 

Monica looked up at Darcy sadly, “I’m touched… but I don’t feel like I’m ready to fill her shoes.” 

“But I _know_ you are, Monica.” Jimmy chimed in, a warm smile on his face, “it’s what Agatha would have wanted. We trust you.” Slowly, Jimmy took Monica’s left hand and slid the Ring onto her finger until it reached her knuckles. 

Monica swallowed. She had tears in her eyes, “I love you guys. I just, I miss her so much.” 

The sorcerers collectively got up and got into a group hug, embracing one another and sharing in their pain once more over their loss. 

Looking up, Wanda could see Vision still sitting in his chair staring down at his plate; his hands clasped together so tightly his fingers had turned white. He looked frustrated and… ashamed. Yes, that was the right word. 

_Oh, how I wish I could read your mind, Vision Abernathy,_ Wanda thought to herself silently, wanting to know what he was thinking at this moment. 

He probably felt some lingering guilt over his role in Agatha’s passing, and Wanda couldn’t blame him. She shared that guilt as well. 

Wanda suddenly felt the urge to comfort him, though held back that impulse in favor of returning her attention to Monica, “you’d better get those trials finished. Otherwise, Agatha’s gonna haunt you from the grave.”

Monica started laughing as tears streamed down her face. She sniffled, “that is something she would do, hehe. Thank you, guys… I won’t let you down.” 

\---

Soon after their talk, the group began dispersing for the evening, but Monica called out, still seated at the table. “Wanda, do you mind if we could speak alone for a moment?”

“Yea, of course,” Wanda replied. 

Wanda turned to Vision, who sat across from her. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “I’ll just uh, be in my room. Maybe I’ll go take that bath now.” He said with a chuckle, then exited the hall without another word. 

Wanda shifted in her seat to address the coven’s newly appointed leader, “what’s the matter?”

Monica glowered, “besides the fact that Agatha is dead? That we don’t even have a body to bury? That I now have to run this place while still focusing on my studies? And that we also have a bloody _Puritan_ living under our roof?! I’m afraid it’s piling up, Wanda.” Her voice came out low and fast. The exhaustion in her eyes was so pronounced Wanda wanted to tell her just to take the day off tomorrow. 

But she couldn’t afford to. 

Wanda lowered her gaze, “it’s been hard on all of us, but I know on you especially. I hope you don’t see me nominating you as leader as a form of skirting responsibility; I genuinely think you are a worthy successor to Agatha.” 

Monica laughed mirthlessly, “Wanda, please, I never would have asked you to take over. You might just be the most powerful of us all, but you are still very young. I’m very thankful for your support.” 

Wanda cringed. Monica was five years her senior, and Jimmy and Darcy preceded her by three years, making her the youngest in the coven. They all saw her as their little sister. Even though Pietro was her literal sibling, they all treated her like she was. Wanda looked up to Monica in many ways; she was her best friend and greatest supporter. She was a shoulder to cry on when Pietro was not there to be. Monica looked out for her and set her straight when she went sideways. 

Monica leaned back into her chair with a sigh, “there’s another problem, though, Wanda.” She said quietly, “with Agatha gone… how will you be able to check your mental blocks?” 

Wanda tensed, “Shit. I… I didn’t even think-“ 

“It is _paramount_ that we know that your blocks are in check. Especially with all that has happened… losing Agatha may have broken something.” 

Wanda narrowed her eyes, “don’t you think I would have known if a barrier shattered?” Her voice was an indignant hiss. 

“No, I don’t think you would. These things are subconscious. You may think you have your blocks in place, but we have to be sure.” Monica countered, her eyes unflinching.

Wanda lowered her gaze and scrunched her dress in her hands, frustrated. 

Monica’s eyes softened, “Look, we won’t know for certain unless we check, alright? There could be something wrong, and you may have no idea. We both know your powers are fueled by emotion. I just want to be cautious.” She implored softly. “Without Agatha, we don’t have anyone in the coven trained in telepathy to inspect the mental blocks properly.” 

Wanda groaned, falling backward against her seat and rubbing her eyes, “too bad Vision doesn’t know how to control his power yet.” 

Monica let out a bark of laughter, “even if he did, he wouldn’t even know what to look for. We need a Master to come and meditate with you, Wanda.” 

Wanda cracked one eye open, “please don’t tell me you wanna send me to New York Sanctum.” 

The senior witch shook her head, “I’m afraid not. I think we should send a message to Iris.” 

Wanda sat up, her mouth dropping in disbelief, “I’m sorry, _what?_! You want to summon Iris Johansson to Grey Cliff? Are you crazy?!” 

The young witch stood from her chair and started pacing, as Monica continued, “she is the closest coven leader in Massachusetts! She is well trained in psionic magic like you. We know her; it’s the obvious choice.” 

Wanda cursed in Sokovian, “you know that crazy bitch is obsessed with me, right? Like legitimately, she tried to get me to use chaos magic the first time we met because she knew _every single_ legend. I heard them all from HER!” 

Monica winced, “which only means she will be eager to come and work with you.” 

The young witch scoffed, “yea, I’m sure she will see it as some great honor. I _hate_ this idea, Monica.” 

Monica stood from her seat and walked to Wanda, taking her hands, “we cannot risk your mental blocks being torn down, alright? Your chaos magic needs to remain sealed at all costs. This is necessary.”

Glowering, Wanda remaining silent until she let out a long breath, “alright… fine. Just… can this wait until after we have Agatha’s memorial? I can only deal with so much at a time.” 

Monica hesitated, unsure, then nodded. “Of course, I won’t write to her until the day of the funeral.” 

With that, Wanda bid Monica goodnight and traveled back up to the second level, her feet dragging. She was suddenly exhausted and just wanted to crash face-first on her bed. 

She passed Darcy’s room and poked her head in, “Hey, I think I’m gonna turn in for the night,” 

The young witch looked up from the book she was studying on her bed, “goodnight Wanda! Oh, just so you know, I helped Vision with getting the bath. He should be out in a few minutes. You should probably wait until he’s done before you lock his door.” 

Wanda nodded, returned to her room, and waited for a few minutes by checking her notebook with Pietro to see if he had written back. 

There was still no response. 

Groaning, Wanda lifted her hands to her eyes and massaged them, trying to calm her tired mind. She thought back to her conversation with Monica and felt a weight fall into the pit of her stomach. 

The thought of her mental blocks hadn’t even crossed Wanda’s mind in the past several days; there had been too much going on. But Monica, as per usual, was on top of things. 

It was true that meditating with Agatha every week was extremely important to ensure that the chaos magic within Wanda remained sealed, and now that she was gone, Wanda couldn’t do the checks by herself. 

But to get someone like Iris Johansson to replace Agatha was… ugh. No one else in the coven could help Wanda because they had blocked their minds from telepathic abilities. The road of mind-reading was a two-way street: you could leave the channel open and be able to read minds and receive mind-reading, or you could block the path, and no telepathy could get in or out of your mind. 

Wanda huffed. Vision seemed to be the exception to this rule. However, she wasn’t even sure whether he could willingly read her mind yet, though she would have sensed if he had tried. His power seemed to come at random. Perhaps having the Mindstone trumped all these rules, but he still needed to practice with his ability to be sure. 

A knock came from her door, “pardon me, Wanda.”

Well, speak of the devil. 

Wanda turned her head and saw Vision poking his head into her door, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude.” 

Wanda raised an eyebrow, “you don’t?” She smiled slightly at the blush that now dusted his cheeks and his stammering for a response. Standing from her desk, Wanda walked to him and said, “relax, I’m just teasing. How was your bath?” 

She opened the door wider so that Wanda could enter the hallway with him in the torchlight. She looked up and saw that Vision’s messy blonde hair was still damp, cheeks red and scrubbed, and his eyes now were a clearer blue than she had seen in previous days. Being this close, he smelled of cool peppermint, which only made Wanda want to draw nearer. He wore a loose long-sleeved shirt that had a V in the neck, ducking low so that Wanda could see just beyond his exposed clavicle, teasing her view. 

Heat rushed to her face. Wanda pulled her eyes away from his chest and cleared her throat. 

He looked less on edge and he gave a relaxed smile, “it was lovely, thank you. I was a little skeptical of the soap at first… I had never smelled anything so good.” 

_Me neither_ … Wanda thought internally before catching herself. She clenched her hands, mortified. _Woah, down girl._

Wanda cleared her throat awkwardly and started walking forward, “right well, feel free to use it again any time!” 

Vision followed her lead as she took him back to his room and opened the door, he stepped inside, and he turned to address her, scratching his neck. “So what will we do tomorrow?” 

Wanda crossed arms and gave a smirk, “tomorrow will be your first history lesson. I’ll open your door early tomorrow morning so that you can leave whenever you’d like. Just be in the classroom by eight a.m. sharp, got it?” 

“Uh yes, of course, just how will I know what the time is?” 

Wanda chuckled, “I’ll have Darcy knock on your door at seven, which is breakfast time anyway.” 

“Great, thank you for the tour today as well. It was truly an enlightening experience.” 

“It was my pleasure. I hope that the longer you stay, the longer you start to become more comfortable living here.” She hesitated, unsure what she was trying to say, then settled on, “ I’ll see you tomorrow, Vizh.” 

Vision’s eyes widened at the sound of the new nickname, but he just smiled and replied softly, “goodnight, Wanda.” Vision closed his bedroom door quietly, allowing Wanda to raise the lock once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Captain, my Captain. 
> 
> Writing this makes me really hope Wanda and Monica become bffs by the time WandaVision is over. I can only hope ;-;
> 
> Anyways, thank you all so much for reading, we recently reached over 2000 hits, that's insane!!
> 
> p.s Just so everyone knows Iris and a few more characters will be introduced later in this fic, these characters will be OCs
> 
> -Argo


	17. To Make Amends

The following morning, Vision woke to the sound of knocking at his door and a muffled, “rise and shine, Vision! Time for you to get schooled by the Scarlet Witch! Wanda left a little something out here for you too!” Darcy’s teasing laugh echoed for a moment before disappearing from earshot. 

Shaking the fog of sleep from his mind, Vision sat up in bed and stretched. He had slept better last night than he had in a long time. 

Taking that bath probably helped in that regard, especially in such a calming atmosphere. 

It turned out that the most magnificent of Grey Cliff’s many rooms was the bath chamber, which was a side room off of the second level lavatory. The chamber’s stone walls had radiated heat and had been thick with damp air. The space was lit only with minimal candles, and the enchanted stone had warmed the bathwater beneath the pool. 

He even had various scented soaps to choose from and picked the one that appealed the most to him. 

Vision hadn’t stayed very long in the chamber for fear of just passing out in the water, but the experience had relaxed him greatly.

Rubbing his eyes, Vision recalled that he had to be in the classroom by eight a.m. 

What had Darcy said? Wanda left him something? 

Yawning, Vision walked over to his door and opened it, curious as to what Wanda had left outside his room. 

Resting on the stone floor was what appeared to be a set of navy blue robes. The Watchman picked up the clothes and returned to his bed, holding up the fabrics to his chest. 

Vision raised an eyebrow. These clothes looked similar to what he had seen Jimmy wear most days and what Monica had been wearing yesterday in the gym. Perhaps this is what sorcerers wore to train? 

Sighing, Vision suspected that Wanda would expect him to be wearing the robes, so he grudgingly threw off his nightshirt and replaced it with the black long sleeve provided to him. He then pulled on the black pants, which were surprisingly soft though somewhat baggy. Next, Vision pulled on the blue outer robe, which dropped to his kneecaps, and then tied the cloth tight to his body by wrapping the leather belt around his waist. 

There was no mirror in his room, so Vision couldn’t see what he looked like, but he suspected he looked absolutely ridiculous. 

Resigned to his fate, Vision pulled on his boots and exited his bedroom, making his way toward the Great Hall. 

He reached the second level’s balcony, overlooked the Hall, and saw that only Jimmy was in attendance at the breakfast table this morning. 

Vision descended the library staircase and caught the sorcerer’s attention, who smiled and cheerily called out, “good morning, Vision? How did you sleep?”

The grin on Jimmy’s face was infectious. Vision had to admit that this man just radiated positivity, and it brightened his already good mood, “very well thank you, that bath chamber is heaven on Earth, I must say.”

The sorcerer chuckled, “it sure is. There’s nothing like a good soak after a long day of work. Oh, by the way, where’d you get the new robes?” 

Vision sat down at the table and grabbed a banana, “apparently, Wanda left them for me outside my door this morning. I guess she wanted me to wear them.” 

“Hah! That makes sense. Agatha always made us wear our robes during our lessons. They are kind of like the sorcerer’s uniform. These days we are pretty lax about a “dress code,” but I know Monica and I prefer the robes over anything else.” 

Vision nodded, “I guess I’ll be wearing these for most of my stay then.” 

A few minutes passed in silence, then Jimmy eventually got up and said, “alright, I best get to work! Time to practice my transmutations!” 

Vision ate the remainder of his fruit and then got to his feet as well, walking around the long table to the staircase once more. Vision wondered where Darcy was at since the library was her sanctuary, but she was nowhere to be seen. 

Vision reached the second level of the Great Hall and walked down the passageway into the classroom, his boots echoing his footsteps as he walked. 

As he entered, his sights immediately landed on Wanda, who stood parallel to him in the center of the room, adjusting what appeared to be a large crystal ball levitating on a pedestal. 

The young witch wore crimson-colored robes, much in a similar fashion to his own. However, Wanda’s attire was cut in a more feminine style, hugging her petite waist and accenting her generous curves. 

Vision had to force his eyes from wandering and was semi-relieved when she finally noticed his presence, turning to face him with a dazzling smile.

“Well, well, well! Look who decided to show up early and in his uniform! You’re making for a model student already, Vision.” Wanda crossed her arms and walked towards him with a teasing smile on her lips.

The Watchman shook his head, “I feel ridiculous in this outfit.” He grumbled unenthusiastically. 

“Nonsense! You look very dashing. These robes are to be worn during your training as a sign of respect. They are traditional yet practical, and they are pretty comfortable too.”

Vision would never admit to himself how much he preened under Wanda’s compliment, but quickly returned to the task at hand, turning his attention to the center of the room, “what is that thing?” Referring to the giant crystal ball. 

“It’s a crystal projector! We use it to pull up images for presentation. It’s beneficial for visualization.” Wanda remarked, gesturing for Vision to take a seat at one of the five desks. 

He chose the one in the center of the crescent, so he was facing Wanda directly as she spoke, “all I have to do is think about what I want the projector to display, and it conjures an image. So say I want to show you a forest…” 

Wanda placed a hand on the crystal, and the ball suddenly glowed in response before casting a spectrum of light from its center. Vision watched in astonishment as the transparent image of a beautiful forest in the summertime materialized out of thin air. 

“That’s incredible..” Vision whispered. 

The witch smiled and palmed the crystal once more, and the image changed to show a picture of the planet Earth, spinning slowly on its axis. 

“First history lesson of the Mystic Arts, Vizh.” Wanda raised her hand, and the image changed slightly as orange-colored symbols appeared above the earth, three to be exact, hovering over different parts of the world.

“These symbols represent the three Sanctums of the Mystic Arts. Thousands of years ago, the father of the Mystic Arts, the first Sorcerer Supreme Agamotto, constructed these buildings to act as bases for his students, the first sorcerers. These Sanctums are located in New York, London, and Hong Kong.” 

Wanda walked around the crystal projector and pointed out the individual cities, “We sorcerers are charged with protecting the Sanctums, which in turn protect the Earth. There are approximately twenty covens in North America who report to the New York Sanctum, Grey Cliff being one of them.” 

The Watchman nodded in understanding, “you said earlier that there hadn’t been a threat to the Sanctum in over a year?” 

“Yes… there was an incident two years back with a Chimera that turned ugly, but fortunately, no one was killed.” She paced around the projection, “otherwise, we spend the majority of our time here. But, we will be going to New York in a few weeks. The Winter Solstice Festival is coming up, and all twenty covens will assemble for the celebration.” 

Vision gaped, “a festival…?! I had no idea witches had holidays.” 

Wanda smiled, “the Winter and Summer Solstices are unique days on the calendar. The barriers between dimensions thin, and magic becomes more potent. It’s quite an exciting time.” 

“I’ve never been to a festival,” Vision commented offhandedly, causing Wanda to gasp in feigned astonishment. 

“How awful! Salem never threw any parties!?” A smirk lit up her face, “Oh wait, I forgot, having fun is against your religion,” the young witch teased.

“Hey!” Vision shouted indignantly but could help but laugh with her. 

The mention of Salem and his religion brought Vision back to reality, and reminded him of a burning question that had been on his mind for days. 

Leaning forward in his chair, Vision stared intently at the young witch, “so if witches don’t make deals with the devil to be granted power, where does magic come from, exactly?” 

Wanda crossed her legs and looked up to the ceiling in thought before saying, “this may be a little hard to wrap your head around, but bear with me,” she stood up and palmed the crystal ball once more, and the hologram of the earth changed. 

The world shrank significantly, and the image zoomed out until hundreds of thousands of tiny white orbs circled one another in a dance of purple and blue. Vision rose to his feet to get a better look, awestruck. It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever laid eyes on. 

Seeing his dumbfounded expression, Wanda spoke up, “this is an image of our galaxy. We live on but one of the millions of planets in space. This isn't even the whole universe, which is made up of millions of galaxies. In order to understand magic, you must understand that we live in an ever-expanding Multiverse, in which countless realities exist, thrive, and die. Our universe, our galaxy, is merely one of an infinite number.” 

Wanda walked around the projection and tapped the orb, “magic, to put it simply, is created through harnessing the energy of the Multiverse, and using that power for your own purposes. Now, this energy is found in many different places. Most sorcerers channel extra-dimensional energy to cast spells, which can be used to form shields, weapons, portals, and create illusions; this is called Eldritch Magic. Others channel their own personal energy to create magic, though not everyone can do this.” Her voice was clear and almost reverent, and Vision was reminded of how his father used to preach his sermons during church; they both spoke with a kind of passion that could only be born out of worship. 

“This dimensional energy is what shapes reality, and by learning how to manipulate it, sorcerers can manipulate reality,” Wanda finished, turning her attention back to Vision. “Does that make any kind of sense?” 

Vision shrank back into his seat and fiddled with hands, “It’s… very hard for me to understand… I know that you all can do impossible things with your magic but, I don’t get how a person can suddenly harness power that only God should have. It seems so wrong to me, fundamentally. Humans are flawed, weak, and imperfect, we do enough damage without having strange abilities, I feel like harnessing magic can only breed catastrophe.” 

The young witch looked down at Vision in thought before answering, “you’re right. People are imperfect and are capable of great evil. Being a sorcerer, having this kind of power at your disposal, it's not free, Vision. Wielding magic is costly, and can indeed cause great harm if used improperly.” Wanda drew closer to his desk and sat on the table, staring down at her hands, “but you must also know that without us sorcerers practicing magic, our world would have been devoured a thousand times over by evil, corrupt beings that seek only destruction.” 

“Destruction… You mentioned a few days ago something about interdimensional beings?” Vision asked, unsure. His mind was starting to connect things, and pieces of information were adding up despite his initial resistance to the truth. 

Wanda took a deep breath, “think of it this way: you Puritans practice your faith to worship God, and that Satan wants to lead you away from the righteous path. But by staying true to your faith, you ward off the devil yes?” Vision nodded and she continued, “well think of these interdimensional beings as the devil, but there are millions of them, and they won’t just steal your soul but will destroy this entire world and enslave the human race for all eternity. And we, sorcerers, practice magic to stop this from happening.” Wanda ended that last sentence with a somber note.

“Some sorcerers have even drawn power from these entities and their dimensions. If you want to talk about making deals with the devil, that would be the closest equivalency. Corrupt sorcerers in the past have been granted energy from beings like-”

“Dormammu.” Vision felt the name leave his lips before he could stop it.

Vision felt the color drain from his cheeks and leaned his head against his palm. This information overload made his head spin, and he knew Wanda was telling the truth because… 

Wanda’s mouth dropped open slightly, before standing up straight and hissing, “how… how do you know that name!?”

In Vision’s mind, he saw the Dark Dimension, the infinite, desolate, cold place where nothing truly lived or died, just infinitely expanded as the malicious demon within hungered, insatiable. Gargantuan, glowing purple eyes stared into his soul; a vile, gaping mouth opened and Vision fell into the hole. He was drowning, being consumed, eaten alive. 

The Watchman heaved as he snapped back to reality, his hands gripped the table with so much strength he thought the wood would break. Sweat dripped down his temple, his arms shook, and tears filled his fearful eyes.

Wanda now sat next to him, a hand rested on his bicep, anxiety marred her features, “Hey, hey, Vision?! You alright?” 

The Watchman turned to look at the witch, stumbling over his words. He took a deep breath and finally managed to get out, “I… I had another vision, but, not of the future, I just… I believe you.” 

Green eyes widened at Vision’s admission, and Wanda whispered, “what… What did you see?”

The bile within Vision’s throat was hard to swallow, but he eventually stammered, “The Dark Dimension...” His body shuddered with the existential terror coursing through him, and Vision placed his face into his palms and whispered, “it was so cold, so awful, it _devoured me_.”

“Vizh, it’s all right, just breath in and out. You’re safe, I promise. Nothing will hurt you while I’m here.” 

Together, Vision and Wanda breathed in and out slowly until Vison’s heart rate slowed to a steady beat once more. He looked up at Wanda, who still had a hand on his upper arm. She noticed this contact and awkwardly removed her fingers from his shoulder, “are you alright now?”

Still a bit shaken, Vision nodded anyway, “yea it’s just… I’ve never seen anything like that before… the Mindstone has never shown me… images. In the past, it would just tell me things, but this... That was horrifying.” 

Wanda leaned forward, “what did you say about the Mindstone integrating with your consciousness? If it once had an identity, I believe it is fading and fusing with your own. Therefore, it will no longer need to tell you information, it will just… show you as your own memories would.” 

Vision swallowed the bile in his throat, his hands were still shaking, “that, that monster, Dormammu? He…” 

“He devours worlds, destroys everything he touches, and brings them into his own dimension… The three Sanctums form a worldwide protective spell that defends against beings such as him.” Wanda said quietly. 

“So what the sorcerers do… practicing the Mystic Arts, guarding the sanctums... is necessary.” Vision said slowly, “to protect the world.” 

A smile crept onto Wanda’s face, “finally. It seems that the lesson has finally sunk in.” 

Vision sat in silence for a long minute. In the past several days, his entire world had been turned on its head, his perception of reality had been, quite literally, torn to shreds. These people, these witches, defended the world from greater evils than his people could ever hope to achieve, and the Puritans _hunted_ them in their ignorance. 

Vision had tears in his eyes as he turned to the witch beside him, “I… I’m so sorry Wanda.” 

Bewilderment spread across Wanda’s features as she shook her head, “Whatever for?!”

“My people… the Puritans… we hunt and kill out of fear. We think we are doing the Lord’s work by ridding the world of witches, but how can that be when you defend this world from creatures we could barely hope to even comprehend? We… I was wrong, I am so, so sorry.” 

Vision’s mind wandered to his father, Ultron, the devout Minister who promised to rain down hellfire upon those that practiced witchcraft. What’s worse, Vision remembered that he ordered the executions of Wanda’s _parents_. 

Though now Vision understood that those deaths were not at all justified, and were in fact senseless murder. 

Could Vision even bear to look Wanda in the eye, now that he understood the crimes his father, his people had committed? Shame weighed him down like an anvil sinking to the bottom of the ocean, and he wanted to run… But she deserved to know the truth about him. 

“Wanda I… you must know something about me. My father, Minister Ultron Abernathy executed your parents on the charge of witchcraft, I… they didn’t deserve to die. I’m so sorry. My father is dead now, but, I won’t even ask you to forgive me… or my father. We don’t deserve it.” 

The young witch stilled and went silent for a moment. 

When Vision looked up into her eyes, he paled at seeing that her irises now showed tints of scarlet. 

Vision prepared for the worst. He expected her to lash out, send him crashing through the stone wall, tear him limb from limb in her red fury. He wouldn’t fight back, he would accept her wrath as penance for the atrocities his family had committed against hers. 

But Wanda did none of those things. The Scarlet Witch merely closed her eyes and took Vision’s left hand in her own. She took a deep breath, “I cannot forgive the crimes your father committed, but that doesn’t mean that his son cannot make amends for what has been done.” 

The Watchman straightened, his eyebrows raised, “but… my father-“ 

“Is _dead._ He’s in the ground, Vizh. And now you can help find a better way for both of our peoples. To ensure that no other innocents are killed. My parents… they weren’t even witches. My mother was a seamstress and my father was a cobbler. They were accused because they didn’t practice your religion and some sick girl accused them of being able to levitate things! They came to this continent to start a new life, and died for it.” 

Wanda chuckled without mirth, her eyes continued to glow red, “how ironic that their children would become the very thing Ultron sought to destroy.” 

Vision shrank into himself, fearful of her harsh gaze, memories of his dreams coming back to haunt him. “Please Wanda…” he begged softly, “do not… There are innocents in my village as well.” 

She jerked away as if Vision had slapped her, “what?! No- Vision, I’m not going to _attack_ Salem. I… must you always assume the worst of me?” Her voice was hurt, her eyes sorrowful. 

“I’m sorry, but, my dreams… I cannot allow you to destroy Salem.” Vision said quietly. 

Wanda looked down at her hands, her face scrunched in frustration, “the truth is your prophecies scare me too, ok? I’m scared. I’m _terrified_ of doing what you say I will.” Wanda’s voice broke, “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” 

Vision lifted his head and saw that Wanda had tears in her eyes. Vision’s heart stirred. 

He had misjudged this woman, greatly. She was a witch, yes, but also a kind soul who wanted to protect the world, to save people. 

He wanted to do the same. 

Vision said softly, “I know now that you’re not a monster, Wanda Maximoff. I believe you.” 

He took a deep breath and continued, “I will help make amends for what my town has done to you, to your family, and to Agatha.” Vision straightened and squeezed Wanda’s hand, “we will make a better future, together.” He said softly, earnestly. 

A tear ran down Wanda’s cheek and she offered a small smile, “thank you, Vizh.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight so I'm like 99% sure everyone here has seen Dr. Strange so most of this was just a recap of all the stuff we learned in that movie, but Vision doesn't know that :,D
> 
> ANYWAYS, final episode of WandaVision tomorrow and I'm hyped yet sad to see it end, ahhhh, yet this story shall continue! Thank you to everyone as always for reading! Your kind comments fuel me to write!
> 
> -Argo


	18. Sparring Match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EYO, quick note that this is a split perspective chapter, enjoy!

Despite what Wanda liked to tell herself, she was quite terrible at chess. 

The Scarlet Witch stared down at the board in deep concentration, trying to figure out how to get her Queen and Bishop out of the locked position Vision’s Knight and Pawns currently held her in. 

The morning after Wanda had instructed Vision in the classroom, they had both woken fairly early for breakfast, and while Wanda was making small talk about the coven, she had offhandedly commented how they all liked to play chess together. Vision had enthusiastically leaped at the opportunity to have a match. So now the pair sat across from one another, locked in vicious combat of wits and strategy. 

Wanda had her head leaning against her arms on the long table, squinting at the pieces from a low angle. The witch shifted her gaze upward and saw her opponent smirking at her, clearly amused. 

“Oh, you think this is funny, don’t you?” She challenged.

Vision straightened and covered his lips with a hand and a cough, “No, no, of course not… However,” his smile only widened, “I bet you wish you could read my mind right now.” 

The young witch left out a huff, “As convenient as that would be, it would also be cheating. And I refuse to stoop so low as to win under false pretenses.” she continued to glare at the stupid pieces, trying to visualize a way out. 

“How honorable of you,” Vision hummed, “though honor seems to have gotten you nowhere so far.”

Wanda scrunched her nose, “are you mocking me, sir?” She asked with exaggerated disdain. 

“Just an observation,” Vision countered playfully; his blue eyes sparkled in the candlelight. 

_Cheeky bastard_ , Wanda thought inwardly. 

“The game’s not over yet.” The witch snapped back, then made her move. She pushed her Bishop almost entirely across the board, seizing Vision’s last Rook, then sat back in her chair, satisfied with her play. 

Vision stared at the board for a moment, then looked up at her, then back down. 

It was then that Wanda saw her mistake. 

“Shit.” 

Vision moved his knight, capturing Wanda’s Queen, and declared, “check.” 

His white knight now sat in the opportune position to seize Wanda’s King, and she could do nothing about it because Vision had so perfectly positioned his pawns that no matter where she moved, he would catch her eventually. 

She scowled at the board, then looked up at Vision, who was trying his damndest to keep a straight face. The Watchman patiently waited for her to respond. But, instead of prolonging the game, Wanda snatched her King from the board with a sigh of defeat and placed it on its side. 

Vision outstretched his right hand, “good game!” He smiled broadly with genuine enthusiasm, and Wanda couldn’t help but smile back despite her grumpiness at losing. 

She shook Vision’s hand and then leaned back into her chair with a groan, covering her eyes, “and I thought Agatha was brutal. You just massacred me _three times_.” 

Vision chuckled, “you played well, but you are all attack, Wanda. Sometimes you must assess the board in terms of defense to mount a stronger offense.” 

“Let me guess. You are the best chess player in all of Salem.” Wanda drawled, peeking out from behind her fingers. 

The Watchman shifted in his chair, now sheepish, “I don’t know about “the best” but… I have a good record. Though most of the people I played with thought I was cheating. You know, with the pendant whispering in my ear and all that.” 

Wanda tilted her head, eyebrows raised, “and were they right?” 

“The stone knew when to keep quiet, but sometimes it did tell me things I shouldn’t have known. At that point in time, I tried to ignore its voice as much as possible. So even if it did say something to me, I would just block it out.” Vision leaned his head against his palm, and he began tracing the elegant carvings of the long table with his other hand, “it was a power I wasn’t supposed to have. It gave me an advantage over others I couldn’t even control. I didn’t want to be different.” 

Wanda looked down at her hands, “yes, I know a thing or two about that….” 

Vision looked up, confused, “but… you’re a witch in a community of witches. You have a family, people who accept you.” 

“Yes, that’s true. It doesn’t change the fact that outside of Grey Cliff… I am usually seen as an ‘other’.” Wanda spoke quietly, a bit sorrowful. 

Blue eyes stared at her quizzically, “what do you mean?” 

But before Wanda could answer, Monica busted into the Great Hall wearing her black robes, “are you two done messing around?! We have work to do!” 

Monica strode her way to the long table and placed her hands on her hips, “Vision, you will be training with me today.” 

A bit startled, Vision sputtered, “I- I am?”

Wanda jumped in, “I need to take a few hours to meditate… it helps me refocus myself. Monica will begin your martial arts training while I do.” 

The two witches had agreed the previous night that Wanda should try to meditate daily from now on to ensure her peace of mind. Without Agatha here to check her mental blocks, they really didn’t want to take any chances with her mental state. 

Vision hesitated for a moment, then nodded, “very well.” The Watchman stood from his seat, straightened his tunic, and gave Wanda a small smile, “I’ll see you tonight, then?”

Something about the way Vision said that last sentence with that adorable smile on his face sent butterflies fluttering into Wanda’s stomach. She grasped the edge of her robes to calm her sudden nervousness, and she breathed, “yes, see you tonight.” 

Turning her gaze to Monica, Wanda paled to find that her friend was eyeing her a bit suspiciously. Monica quickly cleared her throat and said, “Vision, shall we?” 

The senior witch led Vision from the Great Hall, and Wanda watched them leave, anxiety now stirring within her gut. The young witch stared down at her hands which still grasped the fabric of her robes. 

The remnants of her lingering nervousness faded and were replaced by confused disgust. _What the hell was that?!_

Wanda immediately stood from her chair and stormed from the Great Hall and up the stairs, her frustration only mounting as she walked, her mind spinning excuses about what had just occurred moments ago. 

She threw open the door to the Meditation Chamber and walked inside, her hands balled into fists. Unwillingly, her memory returned to that moment just a minute before, replaying it in her mind. Vision stood from his chair, quirked his beautiful lips and squinted his eyes slightly in a smile, and said farewell in that soft voice. 

Wanda stopped walking. _Wait. Beautiful?_

Completely mortified, Wanda sank to the carpeted ground on her knees, a slow breath escaping her, “oh, you’ve _got_ to be kidding me.” She hissed into the air. 

Was she seriously… attracted to Vision? 

How had this happened?! Wanda had barely known him for a few _days,_ and here she was getting butterflies the minute he offered a smile. 

She felt like a foolish teenager. Her heart raced at the thought of his handsome face perking up in curiosity or furrowed in concentration; how he had confidently moved pieces around the chessboard, how he had studied her intently while they were playing as if he was reading _her_ mind.

Wanda’s thoughts came screeching to a halt, _had he been?!_

No, no he hadn’t. They had just talked about how he ignored the things the Mindstone told him in the past. If he had read her mind, he would have told her. Vision was honest. _Absurdly_ honest. 

Wanda felt herself sink lower into the floor at the thought of his pure sincerity. He was always so open, wearing his heart out on his sleeve with nothing to hide. His fears, hopes, dreams, beliefs were so clear to all who spoke to him as if he had no secrets.

She thought back to their conversation yesterday when Vision confessed he was the son of the man that had ordered her parents’ execution. She had been _furious_ when he had brought up Ultron, and her first instinct had been to lash out. 

But she couldn’t. 

Not when the man who confessed this fact to her did so with such open sorrow and regret. Not when he acted like he would bear the brunt of her fury if it meant it would bring her any kind of solace.

Wanda felt tears well up in her eyes. 

Vision was good. He was so ridiculously pure-hearted, it made her soul ache at the thought. 

He had come to this place alone, the foolish man. He had come here terrified, terrified of _her_. Yet he came anyways. He was brave, kind, and now wanted to help her forge a truce between their communities. 

Wanda let out a shuddered breath. How had she fallen so easily under his spell? This man who had come to her out of fear of what she would do... had ensnared her in his hold. 

Wanda thought she held all of the power. Now she felt it slipping, unwillingly, from her grasp. 

\---

Vision’s back hit the hardwood floor of the Training Hall and then felt the wind leave his lungs. 

Heaving, the Watchman rolled onto his side and gasped, trying to return the air into his chest with quick inhales. 

Monica loomed above him, locked in her fighting stance, and spoke, “up you get, Watchman. We’ve only been at it for two hours.” 

_Two long, grueling hours of torture,_ Vision wanted to remark but held his tongue, instead opting to push himself up onto his knees and then to his feet. 

His chest, legs, and head ached from the dozens of blows Monica had dealt him throughout their martial arts training session. He had a bloody nose a few minutes ago and had to keep wiping the dripping red from his lips. 

“Watch your footwork, Vision. Keep your hands up.” 

Going into this first lesson, Vision had expected Monica to be a tough teacher, but having her be able to overpower easily and throw him to the ground was quite humiliating. 

The Watchman had been in his fair share of fights, so he was no stranger to taking off the metaphorical gloves. But those schoolyard tussles and breaking up drunken brawls had been clumsy, brutish, and emotion-driven. 

Here in the Training Hall, there was no emotion on Monica’s end; there was only pure calculation and ease with which she advanced her attacks. Her body was a weapon, no need for magic or spells, and she knew precisely where to hit in order to take him down. 

Vision, however, was a quick study. 

Within the first twenty minutes of her lesson, Monica had taught Vision the places in which the body was most vulnerable: the solar plexus, the ribs, nose, groin, shins, throat. She instructed him where to hit to incapacitate an opponent based on varying degrees of injury.

The next twenty minutes she spent demonstrating basic judo throws and how to defend against them, after which their fighting began in earnest. 

Though Monica was clearly the better fighter, Vision did have a good eight inches on her height; he was also strong and fast. Her attacks came hard, though, and she mixed up the variations of her assaults with each round, making her unpredictable. 

However, Vision did find two of Monica’s tells within the first hour of their sparring: Monica inhaled sharply through her nose before attacking. It was subtle, yet he noticed it before she lunged. Secondly, Monica was left-handed. She favored her left hand for her brutal jabs and her right for deflecting or blocking his counterattacks, likely meaning that her left hand was stronger. 

Which meant her right side was weaker. 

The pair circled one another slowly, and Vision took a deep breath, balling his fists in preparation. 

Monica inhaled. The witch took a step forward, raised her left hand, and threw a punch at Vision’s ribs. Predicting this, Vision drew up his right arm, deflected her attack, jumped to the side, and countered with his left hand, landing a blow to her jaw. This momentarily threw Monica’s head back, leaving her open. Before she could recover, Vision twisted Monica’s right arm behind her back and swept her feet out from beneath her, rolling them onto the floor until he had her pinned. 

The witch struggled beneath his hold for a moment before huffing and tapping the floor. Vision released her and sat upon his knees, smiling innocently at his opponent. 

Monica sat up and stretched her arm, “damn Vision, nice takedown. You’re advancing quickly,” she gritted. 

“Well, I have a good teacher.” Vision’s smile broadened. 

A chuckle left Monica, and she slung a hand over her right knee, “better than Wanda?” She asked, an eyebrow raised. 

The mention of Wanda caught Vision entirely off guard, so he opened his mouth, and no response came out for a moment before he landed on, “I, Uh. You are both excellent mentors.” Vision scratched behind his neck and looked downwards, suddenly very interested in the wood panel floor. 

Monica hummed and leaned back onto her palms, studying him, “So what do you think about our blasphemous witchcraft now that you’ve spent a few days with a couple of sorcerers?”

Vision was silent for a long moment. It was apparent Monica was testing him. She wanted to make sure that he was actually changing his mind and staying true to their agreement. 

The Watchman raised his head, “my entire life, I was taught that magic was used solely for malicious and evil purposes. I know now that’s incorrect. You all are not evil people, and Wanda has convinced me that you do in fact, _help_ the world instead of harm it.” 

Monica’s eyes widened at Vision’s statement, and she laughed, “wow. I was not expecting that. I thought that you were going to remain in your hateful ignorance for a while, but... Here you are, actually confessing you were wrong.” 

A sour expression took over Vision’s face, and he countered, “I don’t… I don’t know if witchcraft is still a sin. It says clearly in the bible that sorcerers are to be put to death. But, your powers do not come from the devil, and your motivations for practicing magic are pure.” 

Vision was in a moral conflict once again. He still had faith in God, yet now thoroughly believed that these sorcerers did not deserve death. It could not be just to kill those that only wished to protect the world. 

“What defines ‘sorcery’ in the bible?” Monica asked, sitting up. 

He hesitated, recalling his readings, “sorcery or witchcraft is told in the bible as power unnatural to humans, gifted in exchange for one’s soul. Mediums and necromancers are mentioned several times, as are…” Vision swallowed, “diviners.” 

Monica leaned forward and rested her chin on her palm, “well, I think it’s safe to say that we all have power unnatural to human beings. The only person in the coven I would classify as a ‘medium’ is Wanda because she can read minds. Necromancy is a dark art that was banned from common practice. The Sorcerer Supreme made it so. As for _diviners_ …” Monica paused, a smile creeping up her lips, “why Vision, that’s quite the rare ability indeed. I believe you are our coven’s honorary fortune teller.” 

Vision’s heart sank, and he stuttered, “I.. I don’t _practice_ divination. The Mindstone just gives me premonitions-” 

“Though I suppose I could classify you as a medium as well, you can read minds after all, even if you can’t control it yet.” Her voice was nonchalant, and her eyes looked at the cavern ceiling as if she were just talking about the weather. 

“Alright, _enough_.” Vision snapped, drawing Monica’s attention back to him with curiosity in her stare. “I get it. I qualify as a sorcerer too.”

She shrugged, “by the Bible’s standards, yes, I’d say you do, even if you have no say in the matter. Honestly, it’s a miracle you lived as long as you did in a town of God worshiping Puritans.”

Vision drew his knees up to his chest, “the only reason I wasn’t executed was that I am the former Minister’s son.” 

The witch’s eyebrows shot upward, “really? How… convenient.” 

Blue eyes narrowed at Monica, “what do you mean?” Vision’s voice was low in his throat

“Do you believe in fate, Vision?” The senior witch leaned forward, her eyes wide. 

Vision blanched, “wh- I…” He trailed off, a conflict raging inside of him. 

“You must. You _have_ to; you can see the future in your dreams! You know what will happen before it happens. Our destinies are predetermined.” 

“That’s not strictly true.” Vision jumped in, teeth gritted, “I see the future, yes, but I also know that those futures can be _changed_. Prophecies are not set in stone. I have altered the future before, and I intend to do it again.” 

Monica was silent for a moment, processing what he had told her, “even still. What are the odds that the son of the Minister is the one to find the fallen star in the woods? The one boy who wouldn’t be murdered on the spot for wearing some unearthly, ungodly artifact that gave him strange powers. I believe in many things, Vision, but one thing I do not believe in, are accidents.” 

The breath was stolen once more from Vision’s lungs, “how… How do you know about that night?! That was fourteen years ago, HOW?!” Vision had lept to his feet and now towered over Monica; disbelief and confusion now coursed through him, his heartbeat elevating. 

Monica knew she had slipped up. Vision could see it in her face as she rose to her feet and held up her hands, “Vision, please. I…” Monica paused, “I wasn’t there.” 

“No, but you were _here_.” Vision hissed, “you were at Grey Cliff at the time. Did you see it?! Did you see it fall?”

Monica shook her head, “no, I was sleeping.”

“Then _how_ do you know?!” Vision’s voice cracked. He felt his rage rising, desperate to know the truth.

There was a long silence before, “Agatha was there. She saw it happen.” 

Vision inhaled sharply, “Agatha… she was there that night…? She saw-”

“She was hiding, but Agatha saw the stone latch itself to you, yes. She immediately returned to Grey Cliff… and told us everything.” Monica said quickly, in a rush. 

The Watchman narrowed his eyes, suspicious, “that’s all?” 

Monica visibly swallowed, “that’s all.” 

A deafening silence fell over the Training Hall, and the pair stood awkwardly across from one another before Monica cleared her throat, “I think that’s enough training for today. You did well, Vision. We’ll pick this up again sometime next week, ok?” 

Vision nodded absentmindedly, his thoughts elsewhere in the past. 

Monica exited the gym without another word, leaving Vision to stand alone in the room, contemplating the fate he was resigned to bear all those years ago. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOT DAMN, Wanda's got a cruuuush muwhahaha, well that makes things awkward doesn't it ;)
> 
> Also, good lord that WandaVision finale just destroyed me. Ugh, all us shippers were sobbing but at least Wanda got a BADASS new costume am I right?
> 
> Anyways, thank you as always for reading! Until next time!
> 
> -Argo


	19. Come Out of Your Cave Walking on Your Hands

Vision was suspiciously quiet during dinner that evening. 

The Watchman’s shoulders were slumped, and his body was bent over the table, eyes cast in some faraway place. He stared down at his meal and pushed around his mutton and potatoes with his fork, not bothering to take a bite. 

Wanda took a sip of her water and side-eyed Monica from across the table, an eyebrow raised in an unspoken question.

Monica looked back at Wanda and just slightly shook her head, returning her gaze to her food and continuing to eat.

Wanda let out a slow breath through her nose. Something had clearly happened during Vision’s training session with Monica. There was an apparent tension between the two of them as Vision entered the Hall that evening, merely grunting a “hello” to Wanda before taking Pietro’s seat. 

This tension flew over Jimmy and Darcy’s heads, however, who had been locked in a deep conversation for the past ten minutes, until Vision finally stood from his chair and said, “I beg your pardon everyone, but I think I’m going to turn in for the night.” His voice was flat, tired, and dull.

Before Wanda could speak, Vision glanced at her before walking away from the long table and up the library stairs.

Wanda listened intently until she could no longer hear Vision’s footsteps down the hallway and heard the telltale distant echo of a wooden door closing before turning her gaze to Monica. 

“Did something happen today in the Training Hall?” She asked, bewildered. Wanda had thought, in the worst-case scenario, that Vision and Monica wouldn’t get along. But she hadn’t predicted Vision to look so _depressed_ after one sparring session. 

“Did you knock him on his ass one too many times? Must be hard to swallow, getting beat up so easily,” Darcy chuckled into her hand. 

To Wanda’s disbelief, Monica shrunk into herself slightly, “no, in fact, Vision is turning out to be a natural fighter. He’s a quick learner and managed to pin me after an hour of sparring.”

Now that stunned everyone, who collectively gaped. Wanda recovered quickly, shaking her head slightly, and couldn’t help but smirk, “well, Monica. It seems we have a contender on our hands.” Wanda couldn’t help but be impressed. Monica was easily the best martial artist out of all of them, and to learn that Vision was able to hold his own against her made Wanda smile. 

“So why is he so down?” Wanda asked, tilting her head. 

A moment of quiet passed before, “We had a tense discussion, and I… I let it slip that Agatha saw the Mindstone choose Vision.” Monica spoke carefully, her eyes just barely meeting Wanda’s.

Wanda felt her heart sink into her stomach, “you did _what_?!” 

Darcy nearly leaped from her chair, “Monica! Are you crazy?!”

Monica leaned back into her chair, “in hindsight. It was a mistake, but-“

“He probably thinks Agatha made the stone possess him or something!” Wanda nearly shouted; she was on her feet now, heat rising up her neck. 

“No, he doesn’t. He saw the stone fall from the sky that night.” Monica countered, her voice rising.

“Does he know about... me?” Wanda whispered, her eyes growing wide, heart beating faster. 

“No, he has no idea, Wanda,” Monica spoke in a frustrated voice, which only fueled Wanda’s own temper. “Vision just thinks Agatha saw it happen. I told her she was watching, which is the _truth.”_

“Half of the truth.” Darcy leaned forward, taking her glasses off to rub her eyes, “Vision probably thinks Agatha was stalking him. He saw the stone fall from the sky, sure, but he has no idea how it got there. He probably does think we have something to do with it.” 

“Which we _don’t_ . The Mindstone fell from space, and he just happened to find it,” Monica cut in, eyes narrowed, “Agatha wasn’t in the woods that night for _him_.” 

An awkward silence fell over the Great Hall. The unspoken response to Monica’s statement hung between them. Wanda eventually spoke up, “no, but he’s still probably so confused. I’m going to go talk with him.” 

Darcy coughed, “Uh, Wanda… best not to tell him about you-” 

“I know. No need to freak Vision out any more than he already is.” Wanda interjected, feeling the beginnings of a headache threaten to come on. She rubbed her temples and sighed, “Vision is starting to come around to us. We have to work together to form the truce. We can’t alienate him now.” 

The group nodded in agreement, and Wanda left the Great Hall without another word, ascending to the second level. Anxiety turned in her gut as she approached Vision’s bedroom. Wanda paused in front of the large wooden door and hesitated before raising her fist and knocking. 

“Vizh, you in there?” Wanda unconsciously reached out with her telepathy and was surprised to find that she could sense… something. Not Vision’s thoughts, but energy within the room.

Before she could contemplate more on this, a muffled, “come in,” was heard from behind the door, and Wanda turned the knob to step inside. 

The room was lit in an orange glow by only a few candles, casting shadows on the cold stone floor. Vision was kneeled on the ground, facing his bed, his hands clasped together. 

He didn’t turn at her approach and instead just kept staring at his hands, which, to Wanda’s horror, were covered in blood.

“Vision, what happened?!” Wanda gasped, immediately kneeling next to him, reaching for his hands. He put up no resistance as she pulled his right hand into her own.

He had a long gash right down the middle of his palm. It wasn’t deep, but was still bleeding and the excess had gotten all over his other hand and his bed. 

She turned her eyes up and saw Vision staring back, eyes dull. “I… dropped a glass. I tried to pick up the pieces, and…” 

Wanda turned her head and saw that tiny glass shards were scattered all along the floor at the other end of the room. 

“It’s my fault. I deserve it…” Vision whispered. His voice was hoarse, his posture crooked. and Wanda looked down at him, eyes wide, “He is punishing me…” 

Wanda’s blood turned cold, “Vision, what… please, let me help you.” The young witch raised her hand and called forth her power, waving scarlet tendrils over his injury. 

Vision flinched and jerked his hand from her grip, falling backward slightly, putting space between them. His eyes were wide, and his chest was heaving. Blood smeared on the stone floor. 

“Don’t, please don’t, Wanda. I can’t… please don’t.” The fear was so apparent in Vision’s face, his lip trembled, “don’t use your powers on me.” 

Wanda stilled, and her heart sank. She had intended to help, to heal his wound… But he was still terrified of her abilities. Every time he had seen her use her magic, it had been for destruction and control, not for healing. 

“I promise I won’t hurt you,” Wanda spoke earnestly, her hands raised in supplication, “I can use my powers-” 

“To heal, I know,” Vision snapped; his eyes were enraged now, teeth gritted.

The pair sat in tense silence for a moment before Vision’s gaze returned to sorrow, “I apologize...” 

Wanda lowered her hands, “are you still scared of me, Vision?” Her voice was low, slightly hurt. He had said she wasn’t a monster yesterday; as far as compliments go, that wasn’t a great one, but it was a start towards building trust.

Now Vision looked at her with fear, and a hint of disdain in his eyes, which made her chest ache. 

The Watchman was silent for a long moment before looking up at her, “I’m scared of your power, Wanda.”

The young witch’s eyes widened, and she snarled, “you think you’re the only one who is?!” Her temper was soaring at his words. Wanda almost laughed, “ _everyone_ is afraid of my power, _including_ me.” The words came out in a withered, furious rush. 

Vision only could stare at her with wide eyes, his mouth slightly agape. 

“I’m not _just_ my magic, Vizh. I’m a person.” Wanda continued, indignation raising her voice, “I thought we were going to be working together now that you understood sorcery.” 

A humorless laugh escaped Vision, “understand? _Understand?!_ I don’t understand ANYTHING!” Vision’s voice rose with each word before he leaned forward, his eyes half-crazed. “I am so, _so_ sick of knowing too much, yet not enough at the exact same time.”

Vision grabbed the pendant around his neck and squeezed the gem until his knuckles turned white, “this thing attached itself to me fourteen years ago, gave me strange powers, ostracized me from my community. I dedicated my _life_ to Salem, protecting it, defending its ways, trying to prove I was a servant of the Lord. Then I came here, trying to do the right thing, trying to protect my town from _you_ -” 

“The only reason you managed to get here is that Agatha _died_ for you to be here.” Wanda’s voice came out in a savage cry, “She healed you so that you could stop me from going back there, to stop me from slaughtering your town or see me burning alive. Do you know how fucked up that is, Vision?!” 

Vision’s voice caught in his throat, “I don’t know what to do… I don’t know right from wrong anymore. Am I a sorcerer? Am I doomed to be sent to Hell no matter how much I try to do good? Am I sinning just by talking to you right now? Humoring you? _Working_ with you?!”

“What happened to being sorry, huh?! Did you not accept yesterday that killing witches was wrong?! That we aren’t evil?!” Her voice was rising, her hands balled into fists. 

But Vision wasn’t listening to her, he was spiraling, his rant continuing onward, “It could still be a sin… Maybe you were right, Wanda. Maybe God has forsaken me. Or maybe you witches are manipulating me, have been since I was a boy, sent this stone for me to find and-” 

“ _Manipulating you?!_ ” Wanda was on her feet now, towering over him. Her blood was boiling. “The only people who have been manipulating you are your goddamn Minister and your hateful _God_ , who, by the way, doesn’t even _exist!”_

Vision was on his feet now, his face a picture of uncontained fury, “YOU DON’T KNOW THAT!” 

Wanda let out an exasperated laugh, “maybe not! I don’t have all of the answers! But I’m not the one with the key of knowledge to the goddamn _Multiverse_ around his neck, but you’re too much of a fucking coward to use it! Maybe you should ask _it_ for all the answers, huh?!” 

“My faith in God is unwavering. I do not require _proof.”_ His voice came out in a low hiss; a vein in his neck was pulsing.

Wanda inhaled. When had Vision drawn so close to her? His face was now mere inches from her own. She could feel his quick breaths. Why did he have to be so fucking _tall?_

“Well, maybe you should, because your God is not an all-loving entity, Vision. Your God is _hateful_ if he demands those that do not follow his rules be put to death. Your people HATE anyone who dares not to follow your book because they think they have all of the answers, but they have none! Why do you follow a religion that damns innocents to Hell? Why are you still holding on?!” 

“Because it’s all I _have_ _!!”_ Vision’s voice was a ragged, broken scream, “It’s all I’ve EVER had. I can’t just… I can’t just let go.” He threw his arms out wide, then drew his hands up to his chest, his hands curled like claws, “my entire life, religion has always been the answer. To _everything_ , and now you come bursting into my life, showering me with knowledge, telling me I was wrong, wrong about everything I thought I knew?! I just... “ Wanda watched all of the fight drain from Vision’s body in an instant, he caved in on himself and dropped to the floor, leaning his back against his bed, and hid his face in his hands. 

Wanda felt her heart shatter.

She drew closer to him and hesitantly rested a hand on his back, but he only muffled, “please… leave me.” 

The young witch stared down at Vision, despair clawing up her neck. She had gone too far. She had meant to comfort him, reassure him. How had everything gone downhill so quickly?!

Guilt settled like a stone in her gut. She had done this. She had brought this hammer down upon Vision too fast; she had woken him up, but he desperately wanted to go back to sleep. 

Resentment crept in suddenly, replacing guilt and sadness, and she scowled, “fine then. Stay here in your cave. Hide your eyes from the sun. I can only drag you so far.” 

Wanda turned on her heel and walked from the room, slamming the door behind her, not bothering to seal the lock in place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes... I should add an angst tag after that shit show. 
> 
> I know ya'll are gonna hate me for this but it needed to happen ok!? Vision's a complicated boi. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and until next time my readers!
> 
> -Argo


	20. Doomed to Destroy

Wanda needed to get out of Grey Cliff. 

Her sight blurred into a red haze. 

Her anger was mounting, her frustration becoming too much for her to bear, and Wanda knew that if she didn’t get out, she would explode. 

Her anger was transforming, evolving. Vision’s spiraling and ranting about his moral crisis had infuriated her. His willful ignorance, his backsliding, his illogical assumptions had caused her to lose her temper. 

Vision was alone, utterly confused, and he had pushed her away when she tried to help him. His clinging to his religion made him blind to the truth, destroyed the small spark of trust they had formed and killed her hopes that he would want to work with her. 

Her initial attraction to him was squashed by outrage and resentment. It had been naïve of her to think that Vision has come around to her so quickly. Why would he? She was a witch, she had imprisoned him, she threatened Salem. 

He hated her. And he had every right to. It made her blood boil. 

but that rage didn’t even come  _ close _ to the fury she now felt at remembering his horrified expression when she used her powers. 

_ “Are you still scared of me, Vision?” _

Wanda stormed down the stone hallway and vaulted over the railing into the Great Hall, using her powers to catch her as she descended to the ground level. Jimmy, Monica, and Darcy were all standing from their seats now, stunned expressions on their faces. 

“Hey uh, we heard  _ a lot _ of screaming-” Darcy stepped forward but flinched backward at the absolutely venomous glare Wanda shot her, red eyes blazing. 

Wanda ignored them all and stepped towards the Hall’s exit, waving her hand above the stone and forcing the passage open before stepping through and running out into the night air. 

The cold penetrated through Wanda’s cotton robes and burned her throat deliciously as she inhaled. 

It felt good. The frigid air slicing her lungs. The snow soaking cold water into her boots as she entered the woods. The pinpricks of ice on her exposed skin. The pain felt amazing.

_ Anything _ felt good to distract from her mental anguish. 

It became too much then. 

Her rage took over all forethought, and she screamed. 

_ “I am haunted by you, Wanda Maximoff.” _

Scarlet consumed Wanda’s entire being, and her magic blazed forth from her soul, lancing through the once dark woods and lighting the trees ablaze in an eruption of pure wrath.

_ “Harbinger of Chaos!”  _

Trees exploded around Wanda as her power reduced their trunks to splinters, showering her in a thousand pine needles and branches. 

“WANDA!” 

The young witch turned, her face contorted with rage, to find Monica sprinting towards her.

“Get  _ away, _ Monica.” Wanda’s voice was a hiss, a warning. She only had so much self-restraint left. 

“Not here! You’ll destroy the barrier!” Monica threw her hand out, gesturing to the mountain and its farm which was hidden by the magic shield. 

Monica’s words registered, and Wanda’s temper cooled slightly, only to watch as Monica swung her fingers in a circle, yellow sparks dancing around her hands, and thus opening a portal. She jerked her head, “let’s go.”

Without a second thought, Wanda ran through the portal, leaving Grey Cliff behind and entering a new, denser forest. Monica followed close behind and dissolved the portal, turning to look at their new surroundings. 

“Where are we?” Wanda’s accent was thick with pain. 

“We’re fifty miles outside of Hereford, Great Britain. There’s not a person around for miles.” 

“Good.” Red energy screeched from Wanda’s right hand as she decimated a nearby tree, the wood shattering and causing the top branches to collapse to the forest floor.

Agatha’s eyes burned in her mind,  _ “you foolish child. You’ve doomed us all.”  _

Wanda heaved as she continued onward, hacking and slicing trunks with all of her strength, her fury unleashed upon dozens of innocent Aspens and Blackthorns. 

_ “You burn my town alive. You kill everything.” _

The red energy shredded and hacked, slicing through anything Wanda set her eyes upon. Her breathing was heavy. Her hands trembled from exhaustion. 

_ “I’m scared of your power, Wanda.” _

Her heavy breathing turned to gasps as she wheezed, desperately trying to get air into her lungs. The red in Wanda’s eyes flickered as they began to burn from unshed tears. 

_ “It is your destiny to destroy the world.”  _

A sob let loose from Wanda’s throat, and she collapsed onto the forest floor, hot tears streaming down her face as she curled in on herself. Her body shook with each intake of breath, her cries unmuffled and loud, she closed her eyes, and all she saw was  _ red, red, red. _

Strong arms wrapped around Wanda’s body, pulling her into a warm embrace, and she only sobbed harder. Monica shushed her softly, slowly petting her hair and holding Wanda’s head to her chest. She buried her face into Monica’s robes, her cries softening slightly at intaking her friend’s comforting words. Her body was trembling. Her hands gripped onto Monica’s back for dear life as if she was the only thing tethering Wanda to the earth. 

“It’s ok, Wanda… You’re going to be ok…” Monica’s soft voice cooed above Wanda’s ear, and the young witch tried desperately to calm her breathing but couldn’t manage to keep in her sobs. 

The two women stayed locked in each other’s arms for several minutes; Wanda lost track of time as she only focused on her breathing, trying to calm her racing heart and settle the raging storm in her mind. 

Somehow, Wanda’s voice managed to return to her, and she choked out, “Monica, I- I‘m s-so sorry…” She hiccupped and covered her face, more tears leaking from her eyes. 

“Shhh shhh… It’s alright, Wanda, you’re ok. You have nothing to be sorry about.” 

“Ag-Agatha died because of me, I- I wasn’t strong enough… I hurt you. I hurt Jimmy, I hurt Darcy. I hurt  _ Vision. _ ” Terrified sky-blue eyes burned in Wanda’s memory, “I d-destroy everything I  _ touch. _ ” 

Vision’s words spiraled endlessly in her mind, prophecies foretelling her destruction, the death she would cause, her endless wrath of red. The chaos she would unleash. The pain she had  _ already _ inflicted. 

“No, Wanda, no, please listen to me honey, Agatha’s death was not your fault, ok? Please-”

“How can you say that, Monica? We b-both know I’m a monster.” She turned her tear-stained eyes to Monica’s. 

“Wanda, listen to me, you are  _ not  _ a monster,” Monica replied savagely, pulling her tighter, “I don’t care what he said, I don’t care what those fucking prophecies say, you are NOT a bad person, ok?! You’re my sister!” 

Wanda’s thought’s turned to Vision’s other prophecy, the one of her burning at the stake. She had never seen someone burn alive. Wanda had burned her hands while cooking too many times to count. She could hardly imagine the physical anguish one must experience during their final moments alive; the pain of enduring their flesh melt from their bones. 

“Maybe I deserve it.” Wanda hadn’t meant to speak out loud 

Monica flinched slightly, “deserve what?” Her voice was shaky, laced with fear and sorrow. 

All of Wanda’s anger faded utterly, and she slumped into Monica’s arms, deep despair settling in her stomach, “all I  _ do _ is spread fear. Vision’s afraid of me, the people of Salem are afraid of me, almost every single sorcerer alive is afraid of me, of what I might do, could do, WILL do.” It had been stupid of her to assume Vision had just gotten over his fear in a couple of days, naive to think that he could look beyond the blood-red power that was her brand, her curse. 

Monica held Wanda closer, “ _ I’m  _ not scared of you, Darcy, and Jimmy. We aren’t afraid of you.” 

“You used to be…” It had been years since Wanda had been inside any of their heads, heard any of their thoughts, but there had been a time when each and every one of them had been extremely wary of her and her power. 

“A long time ago, yes. But you are more than what people think of you, Wanda. And I love every part of you. You aren’t a monster, not some beast to be caged. You are-”

“The Scarlet Witch.” Wanda cut her off, her voice ragged, “the conduit of the Chaos Magic, foretold to return and wreak havoc on the earth. The Chaos may be sealed, but for how long? How long until I snap, until I break, and I destroy everything I love? I thought… By trying to work with Vision, trying to forge a peace, I thought that I could make amends. That I could fight it, fight what I’m meant to be. But he’s still scared of me. I’ve ruined everything,  _ again _ .” 

Wanda gripped her head in her hands, digging her nails into her skull. Another sob wracked her body as she cried. 

“Wanda,  _ please _ listen to me. You can’t control Vision’s fear. You can’t control what other people think or feel. You have to believe you are a good person, that when you try to do good, you  _ are _ making things better.” Monica pulled Wanda closer and tilted her head up to look into her eyes, “fuck prophecies, fuck the world for saying what you are. Only  _ you _ get to decide who you are, Wanda.” 

Tears slid down Wanda’s cheeks as she tried to breathe deep, tried to make sense of Monica’s words. Yes, Wanda was afraid. She was terrified of herself, what she might do, how she could lose control so easily when her rage took over all else. She  _ hated _ herself for her lack of control, for her impulsiveness and fury, for she knew that the Chaos locked away only fed off her emotions. 

Exhaustion settled into Wanda’s bones as she whispered, “I’m trying, Monica, I’m really trying.” Wanda thought she was doing the right thing. Trying to make peace instead of being an agent of destruction. But was it of any use if she was fated to unleash hell? 

“When Vision and I talked the other day in the Training Hall, we spoke about fate and destiny. I told him… how could it be a coincidence that the Minister’s son is the one to find the stone? The one boy who wouldn’t be killed for wearing the pendant? I told him that I thought our destinies were predetermined facts. But he said I was wrong.” Monica whispered, drawing Wanda’s attention back to her, eyes wide. 

“Vision said that prophecy, fate, can be  _ changed, _ Wanda. He said it with such conviction. He said he had done it before and intended to do it again. We both know you wield great power, but what you do with that power is entirely in your hands.” Monica spoke softly, with such earnest intent that Wanda’s heart ached, “so continue to  _ choose _ to do good, Wanda. You have the strength. You have the will.” 

Wanda took a shuddering inhale of breath and closed her eyes. Her head was pounding. Was it true? Could fate be changed? Could the prophecies be wrong? Could they be rewritten? A thousand more questions spiraled around Wanda’s brain, but she ordered her thoughts to be silent. She closed her hands into fists and took a deep breath.

She opened her eyes and sat up straight, swallowing, “I… I want to do good, Monica. I don’t want to spread fear, spread destruction.” 

The senior witch gave a small smile, “then you will prove them all wrong, Wanda Maximoff. You will forge your own path.” 

Wanda gripped the grass beneath her hands, a new resolve solidifying within her. She opened her eyes and stared at the clear sky. A million stars glittered in the dark, showering her in light, in possibility, in wonder. 

Her power had fallen from those stars; perhaps now she would use that strength to rise above her demons, “I can’t control their fear…” Wanda spoke softly into the night, watching her breath spiral and escape her lips, “only my own.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *makes an outline for this story*  
> Also me: *does not stick to that outline*
> 
> Fucking hell, that was painful to write, but at least Wanda has Monica there to give her the hug she desperately needs!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and until next time! 
> 
> -Argo


	21. Saviors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***BIG TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains mentions of past rape/sexual assault***
> 
> please read accordingly if you wish to skip: 
> 
> At: "Dread settled in the pit of Vision’s stomach, and he felt his palms start to sweat."  
> -skip to-  
> "Vision stared at Darcy, completely speechless."

It was only when Vision’s right palm began to itch and burn in earnest that he finally decided to leave his room. 

It had been hours since his fight with Wanda. He wasn’t exactly sure how many hours, but it felt like an eternity— an eternity of sorrow, regret, rage, and now, numbness. 

Vision was utterly exhausted, his mind and body ached from weariness, but he couldn’t sleep. 

His mind swirled in a half-conscious cacophony of despair and self-loathing, running through his and Wanda’s argument over and over and over again. 

Never, in his whole life had Vision lost his temper so badly. 

Vision had always prided himself on his ability to keep a cool head under pressure, to rationalize and think through problems logically. Obviously he got emotional sometimes, but that had always taken a back seat to be sure he was making the right decision. 

All of that rationality went up in flames when Wanda was concerned. 

The mounting frustration of Vision’s inability to sort out the truth of magic and the universe from his religious beliefs over the past several days had pushed him to a breaking point.

Wanda had come to him wishing to help, yet had only fueled the flames of his hysteria. The sight of her red power had triggered a primal instinct to flee; the memories of his past dreams crashing into the forefront of his mind, his religious teachings coming back in full force in an instant.

All of what Vision had learned the past few days about sorcery and its complexities were thrown out the window as he spiraled further into his desperate confusion. All he could think about at that moment was sin, repentance, damnation, and atonement. 

His father’s words raged in his mind, cursing him, damning him for his relationship with the witches. He felt the judgment of all of his forefathers, his ancestors, how he had utterly failed as a Puritan. He imagined his fellow Watchmen staring down at him from Salem’s walls, their disgust and disappointment clear to all. Minister Hayward stood beside them, eyes glimmering with resentment _, “I always knew you were a heretic.”_

Vision’s very identity was in shambles. 

Wanda had screamed at him, pleaded with him to come to remember why he was here, what he had learned, what they were trying to achieve together. 

But Vision’s fear had only gotten the best of him. 

Wanda’s passion, her fury, and patronization had ignited something in him in turn, caused him to lose what restraint he had left and vent all of his frustration out in one painful, destructive rant. 

It was agonizing; it was hell. But Vision knew now, in the aftermath, that it had needed to be done. He had to get his emotions out, to scream, to cry, to _feel_ , and Wanda had taken the brunt of his despair. 

Now all he felt inside was numbness and the itching of his right hand, which was still uncleaned and unbandaged. 

Vision groaned and stood from his bed, slowly walking to his door and turning the knob. The large door squeaked on its hinges as it opened, and the lit hallway burned Vision’s tired eyes as he stepped into the passageway. 

The hallways were quiet, the only sound being the torches’ crackling echoing off the walls. He walked past the other bedrooms, and all of the doors were shut. It was likely still nighttime, and the coven was sleeping. 

Good. The last thing Vision wanted at the moment was to bump into Wanda. 

Jimmy had frantically knocked on Vision’s door not a minute after the argument, asking Vision if he was alright. Vision was still in shambles and had just told him to go away and that he was fine. The sorcerer had complied uneasily, leaving Vision to his misery. 

Vision slowly made his way down the passageway and into the Great Hall. The chandeliers were not lit yet, and the room was nearly pitch black. 

Carefully, the Watchman made his way down to the first level and walked towards the opposite end of the room. Vision entered the next passageway and walked until he reached the hallway that he knew lead to the kitchen.

Vision knew that the kitchen had a water spigot, and would be the easiest place for him to clean out his wound... Wait. 

Why did he smell something burning?

“-Ah! No no no, oh God, please don’t blow up!”

To Vision’s surprise, he heard a frantic voice from the kitchen. As he stepped hurriedly into the foyer, Vision watched with dismay as Darcy tried desperately to keep the eggs she was cooking on the roaring fire from burning to a crisp. 

Quickly, Vision rushed to the fireplace, grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his left hand, and lifted the metal pan from the fire, placing it on the stone countertop nearby. 

“Water, Darcy, quickly!” The witch nodded, eyes wide, and grabbed a bucket from the floor, running to the spigot to fill it. The fire continued to grow out of proportion, and Vision was starting to sweat just being near it. 

Darcy came back a moment later and threw the bucket’s contents onto the flame, causing a cascade of smoke to disperse into their faces. 

Vision coughed into his arm and back-peddled away from the fireplace, wiping his nose of soot. 

Darcy fanned the smoke from the fireplace and coughed, “well, jeez, that was a disaster and a half. Wanda makes it look so easy… Thanks for coming to my rescue, Vision.” 

The young witch turned to face him, an embarrassed smile on her face, but Vision watched as her expression changed and was replaced with horror. She pointed at him, “There’s blood on your face!” 

Vision did a double-take and palmed his face, frantic, then realization set in as he remembered. He sighed and held up his right palm, showing Darcy his injury, “I must have wiped my face on accident.” 

The witch relaxed slightly and shook her head, “gosh, don’t scare me like that! One second I think I’m going to burn down Grey Cliff, and the next I think I somehow split your face open? GOD! What the hell happened to your hand!?” 

Vision gave her a small smile and walked to the water spigot, turning the knob and spraying cold water onto his open wound, making him flinch. 

“I cut my hand open while picking up shattered glass.” Vision murmured, “probably should’ve come down to clean it sooner.” 

“Yeah, well, let’s hope it’s not infected! Give me one second.” Darcy shuffled past him and opened a cabinet across the room, standing up on her tiptoes to grab a bottle of clear liquid. She returned to Vision’s side and held his injured palm. Uncorking the bottle with her teeth, Darcy poured the contents over his cut, and Vision forced himself not to recoil from the pain. 

“Vodka?” Vision hissed between his teeth, digging his nails into his left palm to distract from the burning in his right.

“Straight from mother Russia!” Darcy quirked an eyebrow at him, “Agatha had a preference over wine.” 

Darcy put the bottle down and grabbed a towel from the counter, wiping away the remaining blood and alcohol. 

“Where do you keep your bandages?” Vision huffed, wincing as he bent his fingers. 

“In the Training Hall, I’ll be right back.” The witch walked with haste from the kitchen, leaving Vision alone in the smoke-filled room. 

Vision grabbed the wet towel and dragged it over his face, wiping away the blood and soot until his cheeks felt raw. 

He sniffed and looked around the modest kitchen, his thoughts lingering on what Darcy had said: _“Wanda makes it look so easy…”_

Vision knew that Wanda cooked all of the coven’s meals and that she loved to do it. In the short time that he had been in Grey Cliff, Vision had noticed that she studied everyone’s expressions as they took a bite out of her cooked meals, and her eyes would light up as they all wolfed down her creations. She was an excellent chef, Vision had to admit, and her smile had only broadened when he had complimented her work. 

Guilt settled into his gut right then, hard and fast. 

Vision had made that smile crumble. 

He had pushed her away, retreating back into his base mentality of religious disdain, even when he _knew_ Wanda’s only intention had been to help him. The fear still lingered in his mind, however, but now it was mixed with regret. 

Then another question entered his mind. Why the hell was _Darcy_ cooking breakfast and not Wanda?

Just then, Darcy rushed into the kitchen, holding a roll of gauze in her hands, “got it!” She reached for his hand, and he gave it readily, allowing her to unroll the clothe and wrap his palm in the white linen. 

Vision hesitated before, “I was surprised you didn’t offer to heal the cut with magic.” 

Darcy visibly stiffened, her eyes shifting from the bandages to him, “would you have wanted me to?”

Ah. 

Vision groaned, pinching his eyes with his left hand, “how much did you hear?” He really shouldn’t have been surprised. Noise traveled, _especially_ in an echo chamber like the stone hallways of Grey Cliff, and he and Wanda had not exactly been quiet in their argument. 

“Errr quite a bit, I’m afraid…” Darcy replied awkwardly, shifting on her feet. A long silence fell between the two before Darcy inhaled, “look, Vision. I… I understand the confusion you’re going through right now. It’s not easy, getting your world turned upside down like this, being forced to learn about us, magic, our way of life. It’s scary.” 

Vision side-eyed her, “I beg your pardon, Darcy, but I doubt you would understand what I’m going through right now.” 

“But that’s where you’re wrong, Vision.” Darcy’s voice became low and serious, and when she wrapped the last bandage and stood up straight, her eyes were cold, “I’m going to tell you a story because it’s time you understand that beyond the spectacle of being a sorcerer, we are human beings, and we have all suffered. Tremendously.”

Vision looked down at his hands, “I know about Wanda’s parents… I know how my town burned them at the stake… She has suffered greatly because of my people, my religion.” 

Darcy glowered, “I’m not talking about Wanda, though you’re right.” The witch walked around the counter and leaned her arms against the stone, a sigh escaping her lips.

The witch hesitated for a moment, then spoke, “I was born in a Spanish colony in Florida called St. Augustine. It is much warmer there than it is here, a lot of rain, but beautiful beaches and blue ocean more than made up for it. My father was a blacksmith and made weapons for the military. My mother was… my mother. She raised me and my four siblings in a one-bedroom house, taught us, cleaned us, fed us…” Darcy paused, “took us to church on Sundays when my father was too busy being passed out drunk on the brothel floor.” 

Vision felt a chill creep up his spine as he watched Darcy shift her gaze to the still smoldering embers in the fireplace, “my mother, like my entire town, was devoutly Catholic. My siblings and I read the bible and prayed every night, prayed together, sang hymns in church…” A faraway look entered Darcy’s eyes, “for a time, I was the model child. I was the youngest but always the best behaved. I broke my brothers up when they got into fights, never stayed up late, had the best posture, was polite, yada yada… It was never enough to impress my mother, though.” 

Anxiety stirred in Vision’s gut. How many times had he tried to make his father proud by reciting every line he could from the bible? How many times had he upstaged every one of his fellow pupils, desperately hoping that the teacher would one day mention to his father how good of a student he was? Vision had been starved for affection during his adolescence, living for every smile his father spared him, every nod of approval. 

Yet, Vision could never manage to be quite _enough_ to Ultron no matter how hard he tried. The pendant had utterly cursed him, ridding Vision of his father’s love. 

Darcy paused for a long moment before continuing, “she was always brash, abrasive, and demeaning. She always said her beatings came from a place of love, but that was just bullshit. She took one look at any of her children and only saw her husband. She couldn’t punish him, so she punished us instead. The breaking point came when I turned thirteen.”

The witch took a deep breath. Vision noticed her hands were shaking. “A boy took an interest in me. He was seventeen years old, tall, handsome, charming. I was easily swayed into meeting up with him late at night, stealing a kiss or two. So much for my good girl days, right?” Darcy chuckled, but there was no humor behind her smile, “it was good for a time... Until he thought I owed him something in return for our rendezvous.” 

Dread settled in the pit of Vision’s stomach, and he felt his palms start to sweat.

He swallowed and couldn’t tear his gaze away from Darcy, who now had an expression that Vision could only describe as haunted. “I tried to resist, but… he beat me, kicked me, told me to shut up and lay still. I should have fought harder, but…” She took a shuddering breath, “he took what he wanted, and after it was done, I ran back to my home screaming. I probably woke up half the neighborhood, but if they weren’t awake then, they sure as hell were once my mother began yelling. She…” Darcy had tears in her eyes now, “She called me a whore, a slut, a disgrace, I… She threw me out of my home. Locked the door, left me there broken on the street because I-” Darcy stammered, “lost my virtue, my purity. As if my only worth was tied to something I had to give to my _husband._ She didn’t believe a word I said, her own _daughter_. I didn’t matter to her. I was shunned.”

Vision stared at Darcy, completely speechless. 

Slut-shaming was not a foreign concept to him. It happened every so often in Salem. A daughter would be dragged into the street, thrown to the ground, and publicly humiliated for all to see. Vision had always despised the tradition. It was simply disgusting in his eyes for a woman to be degraded publicly in front of the entire town’s population. As if that would make the sin up and disappear instead of torment a poor girl for the rest of her life.

It was also extremely hypocritical, considering no men were ever dragged out into the street and condemned for their lust. Only women. 

Now, hearing Darcy’s horrific past, Vision only felt sorrow and deep, agonizing regret for what this woman had to endure. She had committed no crime, and yet had been punished wrongly for the vile acts of a true monster. 

Darcy sniffled, trying to keep in her tears, “I lived on the street for a year. I… I did what I had to do to survive… then Agatha found me.” Darcy wiped her eyes and looked up at Vision, “she was visiting the town, she had never been to Florida before... I was lying in some gutter, probably starving to death, when she took me in her arms and... “ Darcy lifted her arms, gesturing to their surroundings, “brought me home.”

Vision gaped, unable to form a word, but Darcy continued, “I… It took me a long time to come around to magic, Vision. I clung to my beliefs even after I was shunned, I still went to church, repented my sins, I still believed in God. When Agatha brought me to this place, I was just as scared as you are.”

The Watchman struggled to form words but managed to get out, “and now? do you still... Believe?”

Darcy shook her head, “sometimes, no. Other times yes… It’s complicated…” She took a deep breath and cleared her throat, “BUT, what was the key to everything was how Agatha didn’t force me to do… anything. She didn’t judge me. She just took me in because she knew I needed a home. She didn’t expect me to become a witch, though she hoped I would; Monica and Jimmy were already apprentices of hers. It was by getting to know Agatha, Monica, and Jimmy that I learned that witches are _not_ evil. Magic is _not_ evil. What Agatha did was selfless, and she showed me compassion when my mother wasn’t even capable of giving an _ounce_ . Agatha helped me work through my trauma, through my pain, she helped me _heal_. I refuse to follow a religion that treats my family like monsters that should be hunted in the night. Agatha showed me more Christian kindness in one day than the entire population of St. Augustine did in a year.”

Darcy paused, “here’s the truth, Vision. I prayed every night on the street for God to help me, to give me the strength to continue onward. To save me.” She curled her hands into fists, and Vision had already guessed what she was about to say, “Well… if there is a God, then He sent a witch to come and save my life. How’s that for irony?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not a fun chapter to write. Even now I'm questioning whether this was the right narrative decision... 
> 
> -Argo


End file.
